Shadowed Hostilities
by Eleri McCleod
Summary: Hostilities Trilogy Part 2. Two months after the events in "Hollow Hostilities," a deadly virus rips through the SGC leading Jack and SG-1 back to the Ancient planet on a desperate search for the cure.
1. Title Chapter

TITLE: Shadowed Hostilities

AUTHOR: Eleri McCleod

EMAIL: elerimc gmail . com  


STATUS: complete, posted in parts

CATEGORY: drama, series

SPOILERS: "Hollow Hostilities" Part 1 of the "Hostilities Trilogy"; anything through "Reckoning" is fair game.

PAIRINGS: none

SEASON: eight

SEQUEL/SERIES INFO: "Hostilities Trilogy," Jackfic-a-thon 2006

CONTENT LEVEL: 15+

CONTENT WARNINGS: OC death

SUMMARY: Hostilities Trilogy Part 2. Two months after the events in "Hollow Hostilities," a deadly virus rips through the SGC leading Jack and SG-1 back to the Ancient planet on a desperate search for the cure.

DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. No copyright infringement is intended.

ARCHIVE: Jackfic, , AO3, any others please ask

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Yes, you read correctly. This was supposed to be posted way back in 2006. But at least I finally finished it! To my plot bunny donor, I'm very sorry it took so long. I hope the length makes up for the wait. I'm posting this story as a series, however the original plot bunny will be attached at the end of the story per Jackfic-a-thon tradition. Though I've included a recap of "Hollow Hostilities" here, you might want to read (or reread) the whole story in order to experience all of the Jack/Ba'al non-slashy awesomeness. It can be found at Jackfic . net and here in FF.

To my amazing beta, Lynette, you always come through, while sitting together in your lounge brainstorming or on extended holiday. To Annie, special thanks for the pinch hit second beta. You both made this story so much cleaner. Any remaining mistakes are all on me.

This is a special mid-week story kickoff to tease you until Sunday and my normally scheduled posting day. As always, any and all feedback is appreciated.

* * *

Shadowed Hostilities

* * *

Previously on Stargate: SG-1 ...

Hostilities Trilogy, Part 1 - Hollow Hostilities

When SG-5 returns from a routine exploratory mission with pictures of what appears to be a former Ancient village, Jack agrees to let SG-1 investigate further. They come back with the news they believe the village to still be viable, much like the Antarctic one Jack used less than a year ago to destroy Anubis. None of SG-1 can activate the technology in the village so they bring back more detailed pictures in the hopes of translating them. When Jack sees the images, his brain is flooded with information and his secret is revealed. He's lied to everyone, including himself, about remembering nothing from his time with the Ancients' database in his brain. He's scared to admit it could be true, that the Asgards didn't remove everything when they restored him. Daniel's examination of the pictures uncovers the possibility of a second race that appears to have lived side by side with the Ancients on the planet. He translates their name as "Wise Friends" but there's little else he can discover about them with the limited information he has.

Jack and SG-1 travel to the planet to find out as much as they can. As they explore the village, Jack discovers he knows more than he should about the village, the information simply coming to him as he looks at the structures and their accompanying technology. However, before they can put his knowledge to a test they're surprised by a pair of Death Gliders flying overheard. Jack attempts to activate what remains of the village's defenses, but blacks out as soon as he touches the main control panel.

He wakes in a small cell built like a box, solid, smooth white walls and ceiling. There are no visible doors or windows. Jack is also not alone. The Goa'uld System Lord Ba'al is his fellow prisoner. Both men are furious at their circumstances and their hatred of each other quickly escalates from words to physical violence. Ba'al attempts to strike Jack, who retaliates by cracking one of the Goa'uld's ribs with the buttstock of his rifle. Not two seconds later Jack suffers the exact same injury though Ba'al did not inflict it. Through a tentative truce, they discover any damage inflicted on one is instantly transferred to the other. They agree to cease physical hostilities until they can figure out a way to escape or one of their respective groups rescues them. Though they ask for their captors to give them their demands, they hear nothing. Food appears in one corner of the cell in the form of an oatmeal-like substance and they eat reluctantly.

Hours pass with continued silence from their captors. Eventually, they decide to use their weapons on the seamless white walls. Ba'al's ribbon device has no effect, its power simply absorbed into the surface. Jack's rifle manages to chunk out bits of the wall as the bullets ricochet around their cell. They decide to try to punch a hole in the seamless white walls with the rifle. The plan succeeds to an extent. Ba'al is struck in the calf with one of the ricocheting rounds, causing an identical wound in Jack's leg. Jack digs the bullet from Ba'al's leg, painfully binds his own injury and fires a few more rounds into the growing gouges in the wall. Finally, he sees a pinprick of light in one and they begin digging with two of Jack's knives.

The walls seem to be made of kevlar it's so tough, but they continue digging until they create a hole just big enough for them to squeeze through one at a time. After a brief argument where they both have to choose to trust the other as each will be vulnerable shimmying out of the cell, Jack goes first. Ba'al assists him by being a leverage point, an unexpected, unasked for help. As Jack turns back to aid Ba'al in escaping, he sees the exterior of the cell. Actually, he can't see the exterior of their cage. It's invisible from his new vantage point on the exterior. He can feel it, but only their escape hole and Ba'al's maneuvering body is visible.

As he's tugging on Ba'al's legs to pull him from the cell, the Goa'uld's Jaffa appear and surround him with activated staff weapons. They order him to kneel and Jack refuses to be cowed. He expects to be beaten into submission, but Ba'al stops his First Prime before he can strike. Recognizing Jack didn't have to help him with his wounded leg, Ba'al gives Jack two days to depart the planet. Any Tau'ri remaining after that time is forfeit. Jack agrees instantly, knowing he has no bargaining power. He asks Ba'al how he knows he can trust him, that the Goa'uld won't just get to his ship and blast them from the sky. Ba'al answers with the same thing Jack told him before they crawled from the cell: "You'll just have to trust me."

Ba'al and his Jaffa walk away, leaving Jack to wonder who had captured them and how. Why him and Ba'al? Why not one of the other members of SG-1? He quickly pushes the questions to the back of his mind and limps off to meet his team.

And now Hostilities Trilogy, Part 2 - Shadowed Hostilities...

* * *

cont. in Part 1...


	2. Part One

** See Title Chapter for full story notes and disclaimers.

PROLOGUE & PART ONE NOTES: Please make sure your seat-belts are fastened and your tray tables are in their fully upright and locked positions. Hang on, folks. It's a wild ride. :D

To Lynette, beta-extraordinaire, thanks and more thanks for your patience and gentle prodding. To Annie, beta the second, thanks for being so nitpicky. You both made this story a far better product. Any remaining mistakes are all on me.

As always, any and all feedback is appreciated.

* * *

Prologue

* * *

I should have known it was going to come back and bite me on the ass.

Had there ever been an instance where anything even remotely connected with the Ancients had simply resolved itself? Had dissipated into the mists of time like any properly concluded problem? Of course not. Don't ask me why I ever entertained the idea this tiny issue would have done what the others hadn't.

So why the major problem this time? People are dying, that's the problem. People I know and like. People I am responsible for. People who placed their trust in me.

I can't make my feet move. Hell, if I didn't know any better I'd have sworn they were encased in concrete as I stand staring unblinking down at SG-7. At least they're still alive. Brightman is as lost as I am. The first to show symptoms, the first to go, right? That's how viruses worked. By all rights, they should have been dead three days ago.

Dead like Martin.

I force the thought away along with the image of a tight-lipped smile. But as I finally get my feet free of the concrete blocks and moving toward the door, an echoing laugh fills the small observation room. Or maybe it just fills my head. Either way, the haunting sound trails me into the corridor, taunting me with my inability to do anything to stop the impending death of everyone in the Mountain. And quite possibly the death of everyone on Earth.

Daniel insists I have the answer somewhere inside my head. But I swear I've searched every nook and cranny, scoured every tiny pocket of information I can drag out. Nothing. I can't find it. If it's even there to be found. I have serious doubts.

And while I'm sitting on my butt struggling to connect invisible dots with disappearing ink, my people keep dying.

* * *

Part 1

* * *

The picture glared accusingly up at him from its resting place on the desktop. Coward, it said, the sound as clear as the light shining from the desk lamp. Afraid of a little image. And to think they consider you a hero.

Jack O'Neill stared mutely back, letting the photo fill his eye and his mind. Was he afraid of it? Or, more accurately, was he afraid of the knowledge it would lead him to? He knew he didn't want to answer that particular question, but his internal honesty sensor wouldn't let him sidestep it anymore. He'd avoided it for almost six years.

He wasn't scared. He was petrified.

He was the grunt, the one who carried out the orders given from higher, finished the job. He wasn't the one who collected the data and analyzed it, nor was he the one who put it all together. He wasn't stupid, even if he played the dumb rock for everyone else. If he accepted the truth the damning pictures forced on him, he would have to accept the fact he truly had been forever changed that day all those years ago.

And he didn't know if he could live with that.

He could justify and reason away the dreams he'd been having lately. He refused to call them visions, even in his own head. He could tell himself it was a residual bit of knowledge, like when Daniel spouted something in Latin and he understood. He could even get away with denying he could fly a ship with only his brain since the shuttle itself was hell and gone far away from his Mountain.

But he couldn't reason away the symbols.

He'd never seen them before SG-5 had returned from that thrice-cursed planet and dragged them back to haunt him like bad Mexican food. One of those symbols currently stared up at him from the polished surface of his desk, cackling in its glossy superiority. He shoved his overactive imagination back down into its hole where it could mumble to its heart's content. He didn't need anything else feeding his brain when he was struggling to sleep that night. One finger hovered over the picture, carefully not touching the finish, leaving it shiny and perfect. The symbol continued to draw his eyes. He knew it wasn't Ancient. He knew it wasn't Latin. He knew Daniel still had no idea what it was, but Jack could read it nonetheless.

He also saw it in his dreams.

Two nights in a row he'd had the same dream. It was unusual enough for him to remember he'd dreamt anything at all let alone the same one twice. In each there were two men, twins by the look of them, but their clothing and manner of speaking were nowhere near what Jack could label as twentieth century American. They'd spoken of a disease of some sort and a device one of the men wanted to make. He'd woken both nights shaking, sweat dotting his upper lip. Unable to fall asleep again, he'd tried to figure out what the dream meant and why he was having it, but he'd had no luck. If the pattern continued he was going to have to bite the bullet and go see Brightman. People's lives depended on him being able to make split second decisions. Eventually exhaustion would begin to cloud his judgment, something he had to stop before it got to that point.

The only clue was the symbol pictured perfectly in focus in front of him. In his dream it had been on the table before one of the men amidst a scattered group of papers, lost among its brethren. But it seemed to call out to Jack as if to say, "Here I am, look at me. I'm important!" Yet he was no closer than Daniel to knowing how it fit into the puzzle.

It had all started with that damned planet, P8D-931. If SG-5 had never taken the pictures that had gotten Daniel so hopped up. If he'd never left the SGC, gone with SG-1 to see the village himself. If he and Ba'al had never touched the damned panel and gotten themselves trapped like a couple of idiot rabbits scenting carrots. That's right, he mocked himself bluntly, let's sit and play the If Game. What a perfectly good waste of time that was. Those events had happened and he had the X-shaped scar on his calf to prove it. Nothing good was going to come out of wishing they'd done things differently.

The clatter of feet on metal stairs jerked him out of his circling thoughts. Flipping the folder closed with a snap, Jack looked up to see Walter through the glass, heading towards his office with a purpose. The man was like a faithful golden retriever, Jack thought, feeling a little guilty for the comparison. But it seemed every time he needed a distraction, his aide was there, unknowingly providing the means.

"Sir," the senior master sergeant greeted him. "SG-7 is about to depart."

"Thanks, Walter." The other man left through the doorway as quickly as he'd entered, probably assuming Jack would follow soon after. It wasn't an unreasonable assumption. Ever since he'd taken command, Jack had made it a point to be present for each team's departure as well as return, if it was at all possible. George Hammond had done the same, a small gesture Jack had noticed and appreciated over the years. He could do no less for the teams he now sent into a universe that wasn't always happy to see the Tau'ri.

Shoving the folder with the offending picture, along with its equally harassing friends, into the top drawer of his desk, he pushed to his feet. SG-7 was waiting on him and they didn't need to wait any longer.

* * *

cont. in Part 2...


	3. Part Two

** See Title Chapter for full story notes and disclaimers.

PART TWO NOTES: Thank you to all of my readers! Whether simply enjoying the opening of the story, following or reviewing, knowing you're willing to share this adventure with me makes it all worth it. :D

To Lynette the beta-meister, still on holiday and still finding ways to make the story better. You're the greatest, lady! To Annie, beta la deuxième, I'm still waiting for a certain posting from you, my dear. ;) But I guess I'll give you a break this time. You both made this story a far better product. Any remaining mistakes are all on me.

As always, any and all feedback is appreciated.

* * *

Part Two

* * *

PREVIOUSLY ON STARGATE: SG-1...

Walter left through the doorway as quickly as he'd entered, probably assuming Jack would follow soon after. It wasn't an unreasonable assumption. Ever since he'd taken command, Jack had made it a point to be present for each team's departure as well as return, if it was at all possible. George Hammond had done the same, a small gesture Jack had noticed and appreciated over the years. He could do no less for the teams he now sent into a universe that wasn't always happy to see the Tau'ri.

Shoving the folder with the offending picture, along with its equally harassing friends, into the top drawer of his desk, he pushed to his feet. SG-7 was waiting on him and they didn't need to wait any longer.

AND NOW, PART TWO...

* * *

"Our people are dying. This disease will eventually destroy us all. We must do something."

"The medical journeymen will solve this. We simply have to be patient."

"We do not have time to be patient! If we wait we are dead. We must act now."

Mylar halted in the middle of the room to stare blankly at his brother. This was an argument they had been having more and more frequently. Methral stood firm in his opinion that drastic action was necessary. He believed their entire civilization would be lost as the plague continued to reap its way through their people. However, Mylar held out hope that the medical journeymen, the best and brightest their race had to offer, would find the cure, would save them all.

And even though Mylar was beginning to feel the first stirrings of doubt in their ability as more and more grew ill, what his brother proposed was not possible: to capture the entirety of their history, all of their knowledge and accomplishments, every moment of scientific discovery... His eyes swept across their work area where half completed projects, data pads filled with notes and technical implements of all shapes and sizes vied for position. "It is impossible, Methral. It simply cannot be done."

"But it can. If you will help me," Methral begged with words and expression. He and his twin brother could accomplish anything they put their not inconsiderable mental powers to doing. He knew he could not accomplish it alone. He was the one for facts, data. Mylar was the artist, the dreamer. For what Methral had in mind, his brother's assistance was imperative. He raised the pad clenched in one hand, the screen full of calculations flashing briefly before his eyes as it moved.

Mylar stepped closer to his brother, a feeling of resignation taking root deep in his chest. He had come to their workshop today to speak with Methral about the same topic, only a different facet of it. Now he knew that conversation would have to be delayed. There was still a chance the journeymen would find a cure. Nothing was set in stone yet and even then they had become quite adept at manipulating the stone itself. So until he could not any longer, he would spend his days with his brother on a fruitless task destined to fail. He would not abandon Methral in his time of need. Taking the data pad gently from Methral's white knuckled grip, he set it on the waist high table without looking at it. Whatever it said, his brother's words would be much more enlightening. While he could read and understand the mathematical genius behind the ideas, he could sometimes feel what was necessary when Methral told him instead. "All right. Start at the beginning and speak of this device and how it came to you in a dream."

* * *

With a resigned sigh, Jack swung his legs over the side of his bed, wincing as his bare feet hit the cold floor and not his slippers. He wouldn't be getting any more sleep tonight, no matter how exhausted he was. He swiped a hand across his face, feeling the clammy chill of sweat clinging to his skin. Three nights now. He'd dreamed of the brothers for three nights running. He would give almost anything to know what it meant and why he was being plagued by them in the first place. Scrap that. He'd give anything if they'd simply stop.

A glance at the clock confirmed that he should be happily snoozing away in Lala Land. Even his habitually early mornings didn't start at 0343. He pushed to his feet and staggered toward the bathroom and its dim nightlight. Maybe a hot shower would put him back to sleep. He was tired enough for it. Anything to avoid thinking about ... things.

Ten minutes later, he met the exhausted eyes in the slightly fogged mirror as he let the towel drop to the bathroom floor. So much for that thought. Submitting to the inevitable, he grabbed the first set of clean clothes he found and tugged them on, stifling a yawn. His body was exhausted yet his brain refused to let him sleep once the dream came. He didn't know which was worse, the anticipation of wondering if the dream would come or knowing what he'd feel like after it did.

He grabbed a coat and his keys, stuffing his wallet in his back pocket on the way to the front door. Since he was up he might as well head into the Mountain. Walter would give him another one of his suspicious looks when Jack handed over a fully reviewed stack of evaluation reports, but there was no helping it. The sergeant didn't need to know what hour his commanding officer crawled into his office. Although knowing Walter, he did know and was simply refraining from commenting on it.

The familiar drive was a blur of road reflectors and traffic lights. When Jack stopped at the guard shack to hand over his ID, he shook himself quickly. The last thing he remembered was pulling out of his driveway. He was going to have to start staying in his quarters on base until he could get some real rest. There was no point putting others in danger because he was too proud to admit he was an accident waiting to happen.

"Thank you, sir. Have a good day."

Gaze flying back to the guard, Jack nodded quickly. He was sure the young man didn't mean to sound sarcastic, but there was really no other way to sound at half past four in the morning. "You too." After returning the salute automatically, he pulled into the parking area, slipping the big truck into his assigned slot with ease despite his fatigue.

Coffee was the first order of business. Probably two cups. And then maybe he could face the stacks of folders awaiting him. He wasn't about to chance it without caffeine. Tired as he was, he'd probably start making corrections in Latin or something equally crazy. Thankfully, the commissary didn't hold normal hours and always had coffee in the warmers. Grabbing one of the thick porcelain cups stacked next to the metal urns, he filled it with the steaming brew. He sank into a chair against the wall and wrapped both hands around the cup. The fragrant liquid never did taste as good as it smelled after it'd been sitting for who knew how long, but he'd drink it anyway.

He sat silently, forcibly thinking about nothing in particular as two members of the scientific crew filled their trays with a late night snack. They sat at another table across the large room, the flow of their words never pausing. Jack's lips twisted upward slightly. At least someone was having a good night.

"Haven't seen you down here in a while, sir."

He nearly sloshed hot coffee all over his hand at the comment. For a giant of a man, Martin tended to move more like a ghost. Looking up at the man standing on the other side of his table, Jack's smile turned genuine. He wasn't adverse to some company at the moment, especially when it didn't have expectations. "Have a seat."

Senior Master Sergeant Cary Martin lowered his six foot, five inch frame carefully into the chair as if he expected it to collapse under his weight, but then again Jack had never seen Martin anything less than precisely controlled. Blue eyes made a tour of Jack's face as he took a sip of his coffee. "You look like hell."

"Thanks." He didn't take offense at the blatantly disrespectful comment. "I haven't needed to be down here for a while." He didn't say anything else. He didn't need to. Martin knew him too well. He'd only had eight years to figure Jack out.

During his first year as commander of SG-1, Jack had spent far too many nights downing the black liquid the night shift laughingly called coffee in the commissary, trying to fit the pieces of his team together. The scientist, the linguist, the alien and the grunt. There'd been times he was sure it was all going to explode in his face, especially during that first year, but they'd found their feet and their places within the team.

And Jack had found a perfect sounding board in the giant supply sergeant, then a Technical Sergeant with an amazing wealth of knowledge Jack doubted he'd find in three other men combined. He was perfect in the fact that Jack didn't have to say a word and Martin let him sit in silence without badgering him with conversation. For some reason, the quiet coffee hours they'd spent in the commissary had allowed Jack to find the answers he'd needed every time. Maybe it had been the other man's ability to simply sit still. Or maybe it was the knowledge Jack could have said anything and it wouldn't have perturbed Martin at all. All Jack did know was whenever he ended up in the commissary in the middle of the night, Martin would show up, silence in one hand, coffee in the other. And they'd sit, sometimes for an hour or more without a word passing between them. They were some of the best conversations Jack had never had.

But this wasn't one of those times. This was one of the few situations he either let the words out or he'd explode. Daniel would pester him with endless questions. Carter would ask more questions about the tech than the brothers. And Teal'c would wonder where the dreams had come from in the first place. "I'm having these dreams."

Martin blinked once, the coffee cup pausing briefly before continuing its journey to his mouth. "Not the happy kind, huh?"

"No. I'm not even really sure they're dreams." He hadn't planned to let that thought out, but it was too late to take it back. "It's the same every night. There are two brothers. They argue with each other before deciding to build something." He looked up from the table top to meet Martin's sharp blue eyes. "I have no idea what they're going to build or why." There was no way he was going into the fact that during the dream he could feel what the brothers felt, could feel Mylar's despair over the thought of dying and leaving his brother alone, could feel Methral's overwhelming desperation. Hell, he woke in the middle of the night practically drowning in their emotions. "Or why it should even be important to me."

"You've never seen them outside of these dreams?" Martin didn't sound the least bit sarcastic or disbelieving as Jack shook his head. "Do you recognize their surroundings, clothing, anything at all?"

Jack continued to shake his head, each repetition making him feel just a little more like a fool. "I wish I did then maybe I'd know how to stop the damn things." The other man's grin was more a product of understanding than humor. Watching Martin calmly lift his coffee to take another drink, Jack fingered his own cup and wondered exactly how it was he could be so comfortable spilling his guts to the supply sergeant when he couldn't to his own best friend.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe they aren't meant to be stopped?"

The quiet question simply hung between them, filling the space with its own invisible mass and weight. Martin didn't say another word and Jack had no answer to give him. He sipped his cooling coffee, ignoring the growing bitter taste. If the dreams weren't meant to be stopped, then what was he supposed to do with them?

* * *

cont. in Part 3...


	4. Part Three

** See Title Chapter for full story notes and disclaimers.

PART THREE NOTES: Thank you to all of my readers! Especially to my anonymous reviewers to whom I can't respond. Please know that I read each and every review with a grateful heart and a huge smile on my face. :D

To Lynette, still awandering far from home, Hurry up and get home! You have fic to write. Uh, I mean, thanks for all of your hard work. ;) To Annie, beta backup extraordinaire, I swear I'm going to eek out time to read. I will, I will! You both made this story a far better product. Any remaining mistakes are all on me.

As always, any and all feedback is appreciated.

* * *

Part Three

* * *

PREVIOUSLY ON STARGATE: SG-1...

Watching Martin calmly lift his coffee to take another drink, Jack fingered his own cup and wondered exactly how it was he could be so comfortable spilling his guts to the supply sergeant when he couldn't to his own best friend.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe they aren't meant to be stopped?"

The quiet question simply hung between them, filling the space with its own invisible mass and weight. Martin didn't say another word and Jack had no answer to give him. He sipped his cooling coffee, ignoring the growing bitter taste. If the dreams weren't meant to be stopped, then what was he supposed to do with them?

AND NOW, PART THREE...

* * *

"Hey, Sam, you got a minute?"

Looking up from her notebook, Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter smiled tiredly as Daniel Jackson leaned his head through the doorway, body hidden like a child playing a game. "Morning, Daniel. Now that you mention it I could use a break. What's up?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," he said, moving into the lab now that he was assured he wasn't interrupting anything important. He halted at the opposite side of the large table that dominated her work space. "Have you noticed something weird with Jack lately?"

"By weird you mean?" she raised her eyebrows, voice trailing off leadingly.

Daniel leaned over the table to rest his forearms along its cold length. His face held a confused sort of concern she wasn't sure she'd ever seen on him before. Daniel was renowned for his ability to home in on a feeling, his and those around him. "By weird I mean preoccupied, untalkative, silent. Even more than usual," he added at her pointed look. All three terms could be used to describe their former team mate on a daily basis. "He's been that way ever since we got back from P8D-931."

"Relax, Daniel. I think you're reading too much into things. The general's had a lot on his mind lately. The ruins we found on that planet merely added to the list. He's only now beginning to lose the limp." Staring straight across the large table at her friend, Sam silently asked him to shelve the thoughts. General O'Neill had too much to worry about as it was. The pressure coming down from Washington had to be immense for the newly promoted general. General Hammond had held the reins of the SGC for so long Sam knew there were bound to be some bumps along the way as the penny counters and policy makers made their own adjustments. O'Neill had never been one to enjoy the political games so many of his counterparts did. She knew he'd spent the majority of his career actively avoiding playing them and he now had an exceptionally steep learning curve to climb. He didn't need anything else added onto the stack, especially not if it had to with the Ancients or his ability to manipulate their technology. The more he was dragged toward it, the more he seemed to fight. She wasn't going to be the one to tell him he was losing.

Daniel's head tilted to one side in a motion she could have stretched into agreement if she hadn't spent years watching him. "I know and that's why I'm worried, actually. He's usually back to his normal sarcastic self once he's back on his feet and snarking at people in the corridors. Well, he was released from the infirmary after the surgery and he's still not back to snarking at people yet. Something else is wrong. I know it." The klaxon announcing a wormhole activation sounded in the corridor and he glanced up before returning his attention to her. "How many times has he turned us down for pie in the commissary in the last week alone?"

"Just once or twice," she said, mentally reviewing the past seven days which had been filled with various analysis and mission prep requirements. Then she went back even further, trying to find any memory of the general taking a break to join them for a quick bite to eat. She couldn't remember a single instance in the last two months he hadn't had an excuse to not go with them. Not since before he had been trapped in a tiny cell on P8D-931 with Ba'al. Not since before the Ancients had entered the SGC's line of sight again. "No, more like every time. Why haven't we called him on it earlier?"

"Because he's very good at hiding."

Daniel sounded as disgusted as she felt toward herself. They were supposed to be his team, no matter that the general didn't actually go through the Stargate with them anymore. When Gen. O'Neill had been promoted, the other three members of SG-1 had sworn they wouldn't let him bury himself in work. That they'd get him out of the office and let him forget about the worries and stresses of the job even if it was only for a few minutes for a cup of coffee and a piece of pie. They'd failed miserably. He was a part of their family and they hadn't even noticed there was a problem brewing in the wings. "So what's the plan? A full kidnapping or just a quick break?"

"I'm not sure. But I do think we need to get him out of that office and topside. When was the last time he went home? He's been cooped up in his office when I left every night this week."

Sam shook her head, one hand reaching up to push her hair back from her face. "I'm not sure, Daniel. I haven't even dropped in to say good night in longer than I care to think about." She met his gaze, a miserably uncomfortable look she was far too familiar with, and couldn't find anything to say.

Nodding in agreement, Daniel glanced at his watch and shrugged. "I've got some time before I have to brief SG-9."

"This report isn't due until tomorrow." A small smile ghosted over her face. "Want to see what Teal'c and the general are up to?"

He returned the smile, stepping away from the table. "Let's do-"

"Lt. Col. Carter, Daniel Jackson, to the control room. Col. Carter, Dr. Jackson, report to the control room immediately."

Both were moving as the call echoed through the corridors. Daniel's unfinished sentence was left hanging alone in the silence of the lab. Airmen and marines alike stepped to either side as the two members of SG-1 made their way through the maze-like corridors to the control room. Every member of the SGC knew a summons like what they'd just heard usually meant an emergency and most of the time it was lives on the line. No one wanted to be in the way of people who were suddenly needed elsewhere, not when they knew it could be their friends and team mates who were in need.

"Who's out right now?" Daniel asked, keeping pace with Sam's long-legged strides.

"SG-3, -8, -10 and -12," came her swift answer. They took the familiar short flight of stairs in three loping steps. "That should have been SG-7 heading out a few minutes ago. Strictly routine meet-and-greets across the board, nothing unusual."

The lack of frenzy in the rectangular room overlooking the Stargate itself attested to Sam's statement. Quickly searching for Sergeant Harriman, the voice behind their summons, she caught sight of him in his usual seat at one of the main control terminals. "What is it?"

His eyes winced behind his glasses, the lights of the monitors creating ghostly images across the lenses. He handed over a receiver with a grimace. "They've got a problem at the Antarctic Base."

Not bothering to ask what it could be, she took the phone with a frown. "Col. Carter here, go ahead."

Daniel stood silently next to her, probably hoping to catch a few words from the other end. A sinking feeling enveloped her stomach as she listened. Each time the SGC had received an urgent call from the small, former Ancient outpost it hadn't been a cause for celebration. Every word coming out of the scientist's mouth only reconfirmed the trend. Sam let out a heavy sigh, one hand running absently through her hair. "I'll tell the general, Dr. Roslov," she said, not the slightest bit happy about the thought. Gen. O'Neill wasn't the most understanding of people once the words Ancient and technology were uttered. It was even worse when they were used in the same sentence as his name. "Obviously I can't promise anything, but I will stress the importance to him." A short pause filled the line before Roslov repeated his thanks then disconnected. She hung the cool plastic carefully back up into its cradle on the wall.

"What's going on?" Daniel asked, apparently wanting to give her a test subject before breaking the bad news to the general. She appreciated the small gesture.

Sam met his eyes, a ball of lead filling her gut. "They've run into a snag with the new gene therapy. The chair isn't responding to anything except basic command requests and they don't have anyone down there with the gene naturally." She didn't have to complete the thought for Daniel to know where it was headed.

"Jack's not going to be happy about this."

"I know. Trust me, I know." She glanced behind them toward the spiral stairs leading up to the briefing room and the office of the person in question before turning back, expression probably just this shy of pleading. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell him?"

He stepped back, hands raised in a classic 'no way' gesture and shook his head, an actual snort escaping his nose and mouth. "I don't think he's forgiven me for getting him involved with '931 yet. It's your turn."

"Thanks," she muttered with a small glare. She knew neither of them were serious, but she also knew it was not going to be pleasant news for the general. "I guess the sooner I tell him, the more time he'll have to decide what to do, right?" Without waiting for a response, she took a deep breath and headed for the stairs, booted feet giving a determined thump with each step.

"Good luck," he called softly after her.

She sent a thumbs up back at him and tried to focus on how exactly to phrase the situation. She'd learned over the years that with the proper phrasing almost anything sounded like a good idea. Unfortunately, Daniel's next words drifted up the stairs and sent her confidence into the toilet.

"He's had at least one cup of coffee this morning, right?"

"Three." Walter's immediate response was nowhere near as reassuring as it should have been.

Sam pushed their comments from her mind and knocked on the open door, waiting patiently for Gen. O'Neill to look up. "Sir, we just received a call from Antarctica. They've requested your presence to help with some troubles they're having with the gene therapy." As soon as the words left her mouth she knew it was the wrong approach, but it was too late.

"I'm sorry. They want what?"

She was blaming Daniel, no two questions about it. If he hadn't gotten her thinking about the general's caffeine intake she could have figured out a better tactic. As it was, there was nothing left to do but damage control. "The gene therapy, sir. Apparently there have been some issues with it." Before Gen. O'Neill could say anything else, Daniel appeared at her side. She shot him a glare then turned back. Since he'd put himself into the mess, she wasn't about to kick him out.

"They need your help, Jack. Just think of all the points you'll earn with the scientists. You're always saying how you'd like a better working relationship with them." He sounded like he was trying to sell the man a used car rather than send him on a trip to the seventh continent.

"There are plenty of people around with the gene." His eyes didn't give any room for argument and Sam's hands clenched into fists, already knowing where he was headed. "Send one of them."

"No, there aren't, Jack." At least Daniel didn't throw it in the general's face, but it was close.

She knew what she wanted to say, what would make O'Neill feel a hundred times better, but she couldn't. Yes, the Antarctic team had done it to themselves, but their work with the Ancient tech was too important to become stalled out because of a minor mistake. And at the time it hadn't been a mistake at all. One shoulder lifted slightly before she could drag it back down and his eyes narrowed in on the gesture like a hawk. "Sir, since the gene therapy was working we sent them all to Atlantis."

* * *

The silence was heavy, long and tangible enough to get up and walk on its own legs out the door. Jack was perfectly fine with that. As a matter of fact, he was more than fine. He was ecstatic at the moment's breathing room, to just take a minute to process. He'd had precious little time to do any of that since he'd taken over the SGC and even less since the whole trapped with Ba'al ordeal. However, ecstatic wasn't going to solve the problem his former team mates had just dumped on his head. He drew in a deep breath and carefully tried to modulate his voice into some semblance of normal. He knew he'd failed when Carter flinched ever so slightly before he reached his third word. "And why didn't someone think of this before we divested the Earth of every ATA gene holder it had?"

"It was only the ones in the SGC, sir. Well, all but one. And we weren't experiencing any troubles with the gene therapy at the time."

That told him how bad it actually was. Carter stumbling over a simple explanation? Telling him things she knew he'd been fully briefed on prior to the Daedalus departing Earth's orbit? She knew he only played the rock. Hell, she'd even helped him perpetuate the illusion to some extent over the years. He ignored the completely unsubtle reference to his own gene. "Why did we think that was a good idea again?"

Thankfully neither of them took the question seriously. Jack didn't think he could handle yet another explanation of how important it was to send as many natural born ATA users as possible to Atlantis. He'd argued against stripping Earth of all of its Hail Mary power and had been overruled. Apparently, the brass far above him had thought he'd be enough to save one little planet if the need ever arose again. He'd swallowed his pride and told them he didn't know how he'd done it, that he doubted he'd be able to do a repeat performance. It hadn't made a difference. Save the world a couple of times and people start thinking you can do it every time, he thought to himself as he stared over the desk at Carter and Daniel.

"They need you down there, Jack," Daniel said, earnest without being pushy. Jack spared a thought that maybe his friend was finally learning the fine art of military diplomacy. "Just for a couple of days."

"Sir, if you can help the team fix the problem with the gene therapy you'll have more ATA personnel than you'll know what to do with. You shouldn't ever have to go back there again."

Without permission, his mind flashed on a vision he'd had at random moments for almost a year. The world was overlaid by a not quite transparent veil, people moving all around him yet not with him. He was upright, either that or they walked sideways along the wall. And he couldn't move, couldn't speak. He couldn't even breathe. Then he blinked and his office was firmly back in place, the two scientists staring at him. Shaking off the icy feeling crawling down his spine, he carefully placed his hands on his knees under the desk. "So when's the flight? Do I even have time to pack?" He ignored the startled looks they exchanged at both the easy capitulation and the almost bitter tone he hadn't given his throat permission to use. He'd said it as a joke, but the reality was Walter most likely already had Jack's itinerary planned and the helicopters ordered. The man was that good at anticipating his commanding officer's needs. Jack had seen it over and over with Gen. Hammond. He appreciated the talent even more now it was directed toward him. Walter had been a job-, and life-, saver when he'd first taken over and Jack couldn't imagine having to run the SGC without him. He rose to his feet without giving himself time to think about it. "Daniel, pack a bag. You're coming with me. We'll probably need your Ancient language skills at some point. Grab Teal'c as well. I never know what he's got locked up in that brain of his."

"Uh, okay." For once, the verbose man seemed to be at a loss for words.

"Carter, between you and Walter, things should run smooth enough. Pull Castleman if you need him. I know he's been a little bored lately." The marine was as solid as they came and Jack trusted the man to be a good back up if Carter needed him. Taking one long look at his desktop, he nodded, pleased with its lack of all paper and extraneous objects. Just the way he liked it. "Now, I think-" A solid knock at the outer corridor entry interrupted him. He felt a frown steal over his face. What now? "Come in."

A familiar dark head appeared, followed by a perfectly pressed set of Class As and shoes a person could use as a mirror. "Good morning, sir."

"Major Davis," he said, surprised to see the Pentagon liaison officer on the twenty-seventh level of his Mountain. Jack liked the other man, he really did, but Davis rarely brought news he wanted to hear. "Did I miss a memo?"

"No, sir, you didn't." Closing the door behind him, Davis nodded in return to Carter's and Daniel's greetings. "I'm here on a surprise visit. Budget time, you know." He shrugged eloquently as Jack groaned. "It could be worse, sir. They wanted to send Woolsey."

Waving a hand magnanimously around the office, Jack firmly held his smirk in check. "Then by all means, Major, budget away. I'm sure Col. Carter will be more than pleased to help you out." He saw Carter's mouth drop open in a silent question, but he ploughed on before she could decide if she wanted to protest or not. "I'll be in Antarctica fixing a tiny problem with the chair platform."

Davis frowned, gaze swiveling from person to person. "Anything that should to be passed up to Homeworld?"

"Nope. We've got it under control. I should be back in no time. Have fun with the budget. Just make sure I can keep the lights on down here." Jack wasn't about to give him time to go through the bullet point explanation. Davis was no dummy. He'd figure it out quick enough. Without waiting for a reply, he swept through the door taking Daniel with him. He felt immensely more upbeat about the trip in general. It was amazing what a little successful budget dodging could do for a person's mindset. Walter would find him to deliver the flight information no matter where he was in the complex so he didn't bother making a stop down to the control room. Now he just had to get Teal'c packing and Daniel to not bring his entire library with them. Somehow he had a feeling one was going to be a whole lot easier than the other.

Deliberately shutting the box on the thoughts trying to escape, he enjoyed the moment while he could. Soon enough he'd have to deal with the symbols he could read but didn't understand how or why. The Ancient chair platform and his ability to use it would be waiting when he got to the base. There was no need to worry over his fears like a dog with a bone. Speaking of... "I wonder if it'll be chicken or beef on the plane."

* * *

cont. in Part 4...


	5. Part Four

** See Title Chapter for full story notes and disclaimers.

PART FOUR NOTES: A very special thank you go to my anonymous reviewers. There were many of you this week and I wish I could respond individually, but I hope this will convey at least a small portion of my appreciation. Your words keep me writing!

To Lynette, ever truthful beta, without you this part in particular would have a hole big enough to drive a car through. :) To Annie, grateful thanks for the discerning comments and suggestions. ! You both made this story a far better product. Any remaining mistakes are all on me.

As always, any and all feedback is appreciated.

* * *

Part Four

* * *

PREVIOUSLY ON STARGATE: SG-1...

Now Jack just had to get Teal'c packing and Daniel to not bring his entire library with them. Somehow he had a feeling one was going to be a whole lot easier than the other.

Deliberately shutting the box on the thoughts trying to escape, he enjoyed the moment while he could. Soon enough he'd have to deal with the symbols he could read but didn't understand how or why. The Ancient chair platform and his ability to use it would be waiting when he got to the base. There was no need to worry over his fears like a dog with a bone. Speaking of... "I wonder if it'll be chicken or beef on the plane."

AND NOW, PART FOUR...

* * *

Surreptitiously, Methral observed his brother as he compared data between two screens at his desk on the other side of their work space. His brother believed he hadn't noticed, but Methral had seen the deepening shadows beneath Mylar's eyes, the increasingly sallow cast of his normally healthy tanned skin. This day Mylar looked particularly worn, as if a solid wind would knock him from his feet. He'd said nothing as the day progressed, however, simply worked as steadily as he had for the past month on the device that would let their people live on even after their extinction.

Methral held onto a sigh and looked back down at his own notes spread before him. Perhaps he was reading too much into Mylar's silence and appearance. They had been working long hours on the project. Though it was progressing at a rate far faster than he could have hoped, there was still so much to accomplish. When he'd first imagined the concept, his thoughts had turned toward more traditional storage devices, ones that simply held the necessary information until accessed by the appropriate technology. His brother, the truly imaginative dreamer Methral had known he was, had ignored looking at modern methods of storage technology and had turned to the body itself. His concept was simple, but the execution was proving to be challenge. When they succeeded, and Methral refused to acknowledge the possibility of failure, not only would they have a device to preserve their history, their knowledge, their legacy, it would be protected by the most powerful but simplistic of locks - the body's own genetic code. Only an individual with the necessary coding in his makeup would be able to gain access to the repository. To everyone else it would be nothing more than a design on a wall, albeit an intricate one. That single precaution would be Mylar's legacy, his most important contribution to his people. Methral could only despair that none would ever know what his brother had done for their people. No one but he and the descendant. It was the one thing he could do for his brother.

A suppressed cough called his attention to the other side of the room and he focused quickly on Mylar. "Is the air too dry? I'll adjust the humidity," he said before his brother could respond. He didn't want to hear the excuse Mylar would no doubt be composing even as he pulled up the appropriate panel on his screen. After altering the climate control an additional five percent, he smiled. "Better."

"Thank you." Neither man mentioned it would have been just as easy for Mylar to make the change himself if he'd wanted it.

Methral went back to his calculations before his mind could betray him. It was difficult enough to concentrate when he noticed the small changes in Mylar as each day passed. He wasn't sure either of them could live in their self-imposed bubble of denial much longer.

"Brother," Mylar called, his voice both animated and cautious at the same time. The unusual combination sent his heart racing in his chest and his feet moving across the floor. Mylar pointed to a series of charts on one screen, scrolling down as Methral nodded. "These are the latest transfer medium tests. This is the best frequency to allow the repository to interact with the brain without burning out the synapses."

"You found it." It came out more of a whisper than he'd intended, but he didn't care. They were one result closer to success. "I knew you would, brother." But even as his brain rushed forward with their next steps his chest tightened minutely. The charts flowing over the screen were based off of simulations. There still remained the live tests, which they had agreed to perform on themselves using one small memory the other didn't have. If there were no side effects, at least none they could count as detrimentally significant, the next challenge was discovering the limits of the brain. Where was line between speed of data transfer and degradation because the brain could not accept the massive amounts of information being forced on it? That was the main fear Methral had. There was no way for either of them to know what changes time would make on their people, how their very cells would be altered by the universe. If the key for the lock Mylar devised vanished from their line then they would have done all this for nothing. Their people would die and their knowledge would live on only through a race who even though they'd lived in harmony together for many generations had little desire to follow Methral's people in their scientific accomplishments.

"You had more faith than I then. How is your search for a power source progressing?" His face must have betrayed the answer because Mylar nodded his understanding and scrolled back to the top of his screen. "I'm sure you will discover something, Methral."

Accepting the encouragement without a word, he moved back to his work station, momentary exultation dampened by the reminder he'd failed in his latest attempts to find a power source both small and strong enough to operate their device. It also had to be shielded to resist scanning from all known enemy technology. He rubbed one hand across his brow in an uncharacteristic motion of frustration then set his doubts aside firmly. Mylar's success was simply the first of the many they would have in the next months. The device would come to life as they'd designed it. Methral's gaze strayed to his brother once more, the fatigue showing clearly in the slight slump of his shoulders.

There was no other option.

* * *

"Sir?"

The voice belonged to neither Mylar or Methral and sent Jack's brain into a long moment of confusion. Gone was the workstation, the equations outlining the power needs of the device and the scans of tests. He shook his head once, hard, battling the influx of residual emotion attempting to override his own. He only wished he could say he didn't know what had happened.

"We'll be landing in a few minutes, sir. You can just make out the facility up ahead."

"Right," he replied automatically, straightening his headset into a more comfortable position. His voice was more frog than general and he cleared it roughly before trying again. "Thanks." Gazing through the slightly foggy window he saw nothing but pristine snow dunes in every direction. The winds had scoured sinuous parallel waves into the snow pack, a stark beauty he was loath to see again. Antarctica. A place he'd never wanted to step foot on after his first nightmarish sojourn. Fate apparently had a bitch of a sense of humor and didn't care he'd spent more than his fair share of time trapped underneath the ice floe.

The base grew ever larger through the window as the pilot steered the helicopter skillfully over the ice. He didn't remember much of the flight. He must have dozed off soon after takeoff from the airfield and fallen straight into the dream. For the first time in five days it had been something new. On the freakishly long plane flight to Christchurch, New Zealand, his brain had stubbornly played the same loop over and over each time his eyes had slid shut. Even the sleepless five hour ride in the C-17 had seemed like a drive across the street in comparison. He was only partially grateful for the change in viewing choices. Before he'd been able to discount the leftover shaking in his limbs as well as the mildly unnerved feeling. He had been dreaming about people he didn't know. It was a logical, even sensible reaction. This time? This time he'd come back to reality with more than just the screenplay. They were brothers-Mylar and Methral, artist and scientist. He'd felt Methral's growing frustration and buried fear. He'd seen the unhealthy pallor of Mylar's skin and knew it wasn't natural. Methral's frustration could not feel more real to Jack if it had been his own and the horrible weight of Mylar's secret was a disturbing counterpoint against it. Hell, he could still feel a tightness in his chest he knew wasn't his own. What he wouldn't give for a reason, any reason, he was having the visions. He could no longer call them simply dreams.

A blast of wind shoved the helicopter a few feet to the left and Jack out of his circling thoughts before the pilot corrected their course. As much as Jack loved to fly, he didn't envy the pilots who flew this route all the time. The winds over the Antarctic tundra were brutal, gusting steadily for long periods of time and then suddenly stopping or shifting direction for no apparent reason. Trying to guess what was going to happen at any given minute had to be pure torture for the flyers. But this one landed with a gentle bump on the small sunlit helipad a short run from the facility with all passengers none the worse for the winds and cold.

"I'll need at least half an hour's notice before we can head back, sir."

Jack nodded, aware of the storage demands and pre-flight checks necessary to operate a rotary craft. It was even more imperative to be exacting in the extreme temperatures of the Antarctic summer. Jack had no intention of heading out on a bird that wasn't prepped properly. He'd almost frozen to death once before, he didn't need to repeat the experience to know he didn't like it. "You'll have plenty of time, Chief. I think we're going to be here a while." With a grin the pilot waved and began the landing checks as Jack slid out onto the icy pad. Daniel and Teal'c stood waiting, bags in hand and ready to get out of the cold. "Well, let's go see what they've got for us."

Waving them ahead, Jack paused for one last moment to collect himself. Ancients and their blasted technology. What had he ever done to deserve this?

Despite the bright sun glaring off the white sheets of glacier around them, the bitterly frigid wind reached fingers down the back of his collar and trailed ice down his spine. He got the point and hurried after his friends' retreating figures. Ground crew in thick coats with fur lined hoods moved swiftly back toward the helicopter. Each nodded a greeting to Jack as they passed, their footsteps sure even on the packed ice of the pad. He admired their dedication, but wouldn't have traded them places for all the reports in the SGC. Cold simply wasn't his thing.

Daniel and Teal'c stood with two scientists in the small entry room waiting for him. As soon as the exterior door closed behind him the temperature rose about fifty degrees just from the absence of wind. If he hadn't known better, he might have even called it comfortable. He followed one of the scientists through the interior door and recognized the transfer room where the heavy duty cold weather gear was donned prior to exiting any Antarctic station. The temperatures out on the tundra were simply too vicious to expose skin unnecessarily and the doubled doors were the most simple and energy efficient method of insulation. Power was at a premium and the base couldn't afford to waste a watt.

"Sir, I'm Dr. Meyers and this is Dr. Emenville. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person." He held out a hand divested of its quilted mitten and shook Jack's heartily. Jack tried to keep his reluctance to be anywhere near the base buried, but wasn't so sure he'd succeeded when Meyers's smile dimmed just the tiniest bit.

It took a second, but when the greeting finally sank in, Jack had to force his face to stay calm. "Finally? I didn't realize I was in that high a demand."

He'd meant it as a joke-one Daniel obviously didn't appreciate from the glare he sent Jack's way-but Meyers nodded earnestly, continuing to strip off his outerwear. "Oh yes, sir. Your experiences with the Ancients' memory devices are required reading prior to arrival. Integration includes a seminar on how we believe the ATA gene works and why some people seem to have more aptitude than others. You're very high on the list, sir."

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Daniel swiftly cutting one hand across his throat in a rather hurried manner. Jack chose to ignore him and what it implied, instead responding with a not quite heartfelt thanks. "Is there anything we need to do up here before heading down?" He didn't mean to be hurrying them into the cavern and the devices awaiting his genes, but the undisguised hero-worship in the scientists' gazes was making him more than a little uncomfortable.

"No, sir." Emenville spoke for the first time since their brief introduction. His voice wouldn't have been out of place coming from a man Teal'c's size as opposed to the five foot nothing it lived in. The juxtaposition was a little too jarring for Jack's already stretched tight nerves. "They're holding one of the lifts for us." He didn't wait for Meyers, maybe recognizing Jack's need to simply get the whole ordeal over.

Jack trailed behind Daniel and the other scientist, more than willing to let his friend carry the conversation. He had more than enough on his mind to keep him occupied.

"O'Neill," Teal'c said quietly, his voice covered easily by the ongoing chatter in front of them. "Are you well?"

He must not have been controlling his face as well as he thought he was if Teal'c was asking questions like that. Forcing a grin, he nodded once. "I'm good, T. Just wanting to get this done and get back to the SGC. I'm missing the Carter/Davis show back there." Jack doubted his friend believed him, but the other man didn't call him on it.

Teal'c merely studied him for a long moment then nodded in return. "I am here if you need to speak, O'Neill."

"I know, buddy. Thanks." He took an extra second to make sure Teal'c knew he wasn't just blowing smoke. Even if he couldn't take advantage of the offer, he appreciated it nonetheless. Of all people, Teal'c could understand what went on in his brain. Except when it came to his unhealthy connection with the Ancients. There was no way for his friend to know the depths of his unease around the tech he could manipulate with his only his brain and he wasn't the kind of person to run around with his every thought laid bare for all too see. That didn't make Teal'c's effort any less welcome. He turned to face the waiting scientists before he could rabbit. "Let's do this."

* * *

cont. in Part 5...


	6. Part Five

** See Title Chapter for full story notes and disclaimers.

PART FIVE NOTES: Heaps of thanks to my anonymous reviewers this past week. Your comments were lovely and inspiring. Thank you, thank you!

To Lynette, wonder-beta, thank you for not letting me ease up on this section. You made this so much more powerful than I could have hoped it to be. To Annie, you caught those tiny errors we'd read over so many times and cleaned this up so much. You both made this story a far better product. Any remaining mistakes are all on me.

As always, any and all feedback is appreciated.

* * *

Part Five

* * *

PREVIOUSLY ON STARGATE: SG-1...

"I know, buddy. Thanks." He took an extra second to make sure Teal'c knew he wasn't just blowing smoke. Even if he couldn't take advantage of the offer, he appreciated it nonetheless. Of all people, Teal'c could understand what went on in his brain. Except when it came to his unhealthy connection with the Ancients. There was no way for his friend to know the depths of his unease around the tech he could manipulate with his only his brain and he wasn't the kind of person to run around with his every thought laid bare for all too see. That didn't make Teal'c's effort any less welcome. He turned to face the waiting scientists before he could rabbit. "Let's do this."

AND NOW, PART FIVE...

* * *

It was the stuff of nightmares.

Well, it was the stuff of Jack's nightmares.

He couldn't move, couldn't take that first step toward the chair he'd almost died in. All the way down the ride in the lift he'd told himself he could do it, he could walk up the platform and get in that chair. Staring at it now, with scientists scurrying all around it, he wondered at his own stupidity. Why in hell had he agreed to come back again? Because you're a Boy Scout, he answered himself snidely, and don't have the balls to say no. With a grimace, he shook his head clear. He didn't have time to dwell on his personal failings at the moment. He had almost two days of travel back to Colorado for that. The same two days for the dreams to haunt his sleep as they had during the flight out.

"Sir?" came a tentative voice. "Sir, is something wrong?

"Nope," Jack answered, pasting a grin on his face for Meyers's sake. Although the man had donned the obligatory white lab coat, he didn't look any older. If Jack was in a catty mood, he might even have said the young scientist looked like he was playing dress up in his father's clothes. But he wasn't feeling catty. He was feeling trapped and decidedly hemmed in. He forced a carefree tone into his voice anyway. "Everything's fine. Are you ready for the tests?" Great, Jack, just throw yourself into the fire while you're at it. That'll learn them to stop asking you to jump down here when things get rough.

"Almost, sir. Just a few more diagnostics to run and we'll be ready for you." Meyers was so sincere he nearly tripped standing still, wanting everything to be perfect for The Hero. "Dr. Roslov has offered his office for your use while you're here, if you'd like."

Jack let a silent sigh escape. The guy was only doing his job. There was no need to take his pissy mood out on him, even if he was the easy target. "Thank you, Meyers, but I'd like to observe the procedures since I came all this way." And here's some Bar-B-Q sauce for flavor, added the annoyingly persistent demon perched happily on his shoulder. The scientist smiled broadly then stumbled slightly as he turned to join the small group of fellow white coated men and women clustered around the chair platform.

And exactly whose dumb ass idea was this again, he asked himself, ever willing to avoid the real issue. Because now, with the chair filling his vision, the decision suddenly seemed one of the worst he'd ever made. He was thousands of miles away from where he should have been and millennia away from where he'd ever thought to be again.

He lost all sense of time staring blank-eyed at the scientists as they murmured amongst themselves, fingers flying over their flat, computerized data pads. He could no longer avoid the questions that had crept into his head on the trip south. What if they were right? What if he did have a more precise control of the chair than the people who'd received the therapy? Would he have to stay in Antarctica longer? Would he have to work out all of the secrets himself and then pass them on? Sweat beaded his upper lip as the horrifying questions continued to pile up on each other. So intent was he on the awful thoughts, he didn't notice Daniel slipping up beside him.

"Hey, Jack."

He jumped, heart pounding against his ribs insistently as his gaze flew from the scientists to the man at his right. "Daniel. Hey."

"Relax, I'm not going to bite," Daniel teased, face tightening ever so slightly despite the smile. Jack chose to ignore the warning signs and hoped his friend would let his uncharacteristic skittishness pass without comment. "Dr. Emenville reiterated they just want a simple series of actions to validate their research. Nothing special or dramatic."

Jack simply nodded, not trusting his voice to anything else yet. He didn't even stop the archaeologist when he began prattling on about the writing that had been found on a small section of the chair's rear near its base. He let Daniel's voice flow over him, its cadence familiar and comforting, and tried to push his worries to the back of his mind. Whatever happened happened. He'd deal with the repercussions after. He always had before. It was his way.

Unfortunately, the internal pep talk wasn't working and his hands started trembling where they were clenched at his sides, a fine shiver of reaction.

Meyers, his expression bright and filled with an excitement Jack thought was totally unwarranted, stood up, straightening his jacket absently as he made his way over. "It's ready, sir." He waved an arm toward the chair as he continued. "We'll start with a small test and then work through each of the tasks we can perform with the gene therapy. If those results match, we'll move on to the more advanced functions."

"Great." Jack managed to keep the sarcasm down to a barely noticeable level. Well, barely noticeable to his ears. He could feel Teal'c's heavy gaze on his back as Daniel sent him a brief, questioning look. "What?"

"Nothing, Jack."

He kept the glare up until they reached the platform. Pausing briefly, he ignored Daniel's sharp eyed stare as he lifted one foot to step up to the chair. A ring of light burst into life, illuminating the chair in negative for a split second. Colors dazzled his eyes as he took the last few steps to the chair itself, each ring glowing brightly below him. Blinking to clear his vision, he sat, the chair reclining automatically. He'd read SG-1's individual reports of his actions in the battle with Anubis. The plain recountings had done little to tell him what he'd done and he'd never wanted to know more. He'd been happy to not remember any of it. His body, however, chose to ignore him and settled into the seat as if it belonged there. A shiver crawled down his spine at the thought.

"Jack? You okay?" Daniel asked, stepping up onto the brightly glowing platform to stand beside him.

"Fine." He didn't sound fine. He sounded like he was about to puke up a lung, but who was going to clean that mess up? He schooled his features to show nothing but a neutral mask and rested his hands on the jelly-like control circles on each arm rest. "What's up first?"

Dr. Meyers moved to the edge of the platform carefully as if he was afraid getting too close would mess up the results. For all Jack knew it would. The man tapped out a series of requests on the data pad cradled in one arm. "The mapping system, sir. Display the Solar System, please."

"Solar System. Right," Jack muttered, taking one more deep breath as his fingers dug into the squishy substance unconsciously. Solar System, he repeated silently, I want the Solar System. The thought left his brain and shot toward the chair, tingling down his arms as it made contact with the jelly.

The chair lights dimmed as the sun appeared directly above Jack's head. Eight tiny balls of color and light and the asteroid sometimes laughingly referred to as the ninth planet floated in mid-air, moons, satellites and asteroid belts tiny blips around them.

Jack stared, spellbound. Someone murmured a quiet, "Wow," but he was too stunned to bother discovering who. Because 'wow' was right. It was beautiful was his little corner of the universe. Earth shone, a brilliant blue and white sphere, the continents peeking out beneath an ever-shifting puffy white cloud cover. Jupiter, with its giant red eye, dwarfing all the other planets to prove its undisputed dominance. Tiny Mercury as it struggled against the terrible pull of the sun to maintain its orbit. And solitary Neptune, so far from the warmth of the sun no liquid could ever find purchase there.

This was why he'd fought all these years. Yes, the people of Earth needed protection. Yes, they were helpless against the Goa'uld and every other enemy they'd made over the years. But this... This pristine corner of the galaxy was worth fighting for, to keep it free and safe, even from itself. Glimpses like this only made him want to fight harder.

"Can you pull back to the Milky Way now?" Meyers' voice was hushed. Even an analytical scientist didn't want to break the atmosphere of reverence with the heavens floating above them.

Another quick thought sent the Solar System shrinking and flying to his right to disappear into one of the multi-spiraled arms of the familiar image. He kept Earth's star flashing softly, a gentle reminder of their place in the giant expanse. Jack glanced over to Meyers, absurdly pleased to see him hunched over the data pad, hand flying as he took notes on the touchscreen. The young man kept shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what Jack had just done. Hadn't he seen the show before?

"Your control is amazing, sir. We haven't been able to duplicate either yours or Major Sheppard's facility with the devices." He paused in his note taking long enough to spare Jack a searching look. "Maybe it's intrinsic in the gene being a part of you since birth. Maybe as time goes by it will get easier for those of us with the gene therapy."

"What's next, Dr. Meyers?" Daniel asked, apparently recognizing the subtle twist of impatience taking shape on Jack's face. "There are quite a few tests to get through today."

Meyers shook his head once again, a rueful grin lifting his lips. "I'm sorry, sir. I lose focus sometimes. I'd like you to pick another section of the universe. We've had quite a bit of trouble calling up anything except within the Milky Way itself."

"Okay." Jack paused for a second, brain riffling through the areas of space he'd studied both at home with his telescope and at the SGC. What one had he always wanted to see?

A quick flash of light and the familiar spiral arms disappeared to be replaced by another spiral galaxy. This one had a bright nucleus, but its arms were far fewer than Jack's home.

"Very nice." Dr. Meyers smiled, stylus flying again.

Daniel stared up at the galaxy, a frown creasing between his eyebrows. "Jack, where is this? Is this Pegasus?"

"No, Daniel. This is Andromeda." Jack's eyes jumped from nucleus to arms to bright spots where stars were forming even as he watched. Okay, so maybe the chair wasn't exactly his enemy after all. He wouldn't go so far as to call it an ally or even a useful tool he'd be willing to use, but he could stretch to no longer an enemy. He watched in silent wonder as the Milky Way's closest neighbor slowly spun its graceful path through the sky. Meyers' excited voice broke through his reverie and his gaze snapped down to focus on the scientist.

"This is amazing, sir. We haven't been able to access the other star charts with the gene therapy. It's one of our biggest frustrations." The stylus kept moving even as he looked up to meet Jack's eyes. The scientists clustered like a bunch of goslings off to his right murmured in indistinguishable voices, their own pads filling as quickly as their hands could move. "Can you access any others?"

He didn't even have to consciously think it. His brain took over, translated the question into a decision and triggered a response from the chair. A list appeared in his mind, one he'd seen before, but never so full. The known galaxies of Earth's limited astronomy were all there as were hundreds of others. "Oh yeah," he murmured in response, not paying attention in the slightest to what he said.

Hundreds of galaxies. There were hundreds of them.

After his first almost disastrous mission to Abydos, he'd returned to Earth with an insatiable craving for information about the stars. Their formation, location, substance, movements, anything and everything he could get his hands on his brain eagerly absorbed. Knowing there was more out there, he could no longer be content living in ignorance any longer. But nothing he'd learned in his years of study couldn't compare to the simple list the people standing around him couldn't even see. A quick thought changed that all.

Andromeda disappeared and a plain rectangular window opened, words and symbols scrolling down the window. It was all in Ancient and he could read more than just bits and pieces. The instant he realized what his brain was doing the fear grabbed him, squeezing his chest hard enough to make breathing worse than a chore. Being able to work the chair was one thing. Reading a language he'd only known with downloaded knowledge supposedly long gone was another. The window disappeared in a small flash of light as he cut his brain off from the interface.

"Wait," Meyers called. "What was that?"

"Whatever it was, it was written in Ancient," Daniel added. "It looked like some kind of list."

"We've never seen anything like it from the device although we knew there had to be more information stored in its database. Sir, what did you do?"

Jack sat up with a jerk, his sudden motion forcing the chair fully upright. "I wanted you to be able to see what I did. The chair displayed it." That couldn't be his voice, could it? His voice was usually much stronger and far more confident.

Meyers was momentarily stunned into silence. Jack could see the thoughts whirling behind his eyes, each vying for prominence. One finally clawed its way to the top, although it wasn't the one Jack thought it would have been. "What was it?"

"Galaxy chart with addresses." He needed to move, unable to shake the fear from his skin sitting in the device that caused it all. Before any of the scientists could process the significance of his revelation, Jack pushed to his feet, hands fisting to hide their tremors. "I'd like to take a break if you don't mind. It's been a while since I used this thing."

Apparently recognizing it wasn't really a request, Dr. Meyers simply nodded, head already working through the information gathered. "Let us know when you're ready to continue, sir."

He stepped down from the platform without responding. He was out of there. He couldn't stay in Antarctica any longer, not with that thing just sitting there waiting to gobble up his brain again. And to think he'd just begun to believe it wasn't the enemy. He was heading back to his chair, his office and his Stargate.

"Jack?" Daniel called as he strode past, unconsciously following him away from the platform and the scientists' excited babbling. "Hey, Jack, where are you going?"

"Home."

The sharply bitten off word halted his friend in mid-step. Jack didn't stop. "The SGC? Jack, you can't."

"The hell I can't." He didn't even look back.

"Jack, wait."

Something in Daniel's voice pulled him around, feet stopping reluctantly. "What?"

"You can't leave," he repeated quietly, body blocking the curious eyes Jack could see over Daniel's shoulder. "We need this information and you're the only one who can do it. They can't fix the gene therapy without you. Whatever problem you have you'll just have to get over it."

Eyes narrowing at the unusually blunt argument, Jack took a breath to keep his voice even and calm. It would take less than a blink for him to lose it all over the other man in that instant. "I thought I could do this. I was wrong. End of story." The fact he'd never quit anything in his life meant nothing to him at that moment. As he turned on his heel to leave, Daniel reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Just wait, please. Take a break. Use Roslov's office," he suggested. "You know how important this is."

"Fine. But I'm not making any promises." This time when he turned Daniel let him leave, his hand slipping off Jack's arm. His clenched hands shook from the effort of not tearing his friend apart. Breathing deep down into his lungs, he forced his fingers to relax. A fine ache pulsed up his arms as blood returned to the digits. Asking a random scientist had him to Roslov's impeccable office in short moments. He entered the small space wishing for a door to take some frustration out on. He settled for flinging himself into one of the chairs, arms slapping the sides. He'd take some time and then he was out of there. Gen. Hammond himself couldn't order him back into that thing.

* * *

cont. in Part 6...


	7. Part Six

** See Title Chapter for full story notes and disclaimers.

PART SIX NOTES: Thank you so much to all of my reviewers this past week. I'll get individual thanks out after my visitors leave. It's been a busy week and I have more sightseeing ahead of me! Special thanks to those new followers, both for this story and for me.

To Lynette, beta guru, as your journeying ends I hope you have a great flight and even better return home! To Annie, happy thanks for your pinch hit beta efforts. You both made this story a far better product. Any remaining mistakes are all on me.

As always, any and all feedback is appreciated.

* * *

Part Six

* * *

PREVIOUSLY ON STARGATE: SG-1...

This time when he turned Daniel let him leave, his hand slipping off Jack's arm. His clenched hands shook from the effort of not tearing his friend apart. Breathing deep down into his lungs, he forced his fingers to relax. A fine ache pulsed up his arms as blood returned to the digits. Asking a random scientist had him to Roslov's impeccable office in short moments. He entered the small space wishing for a door to take some frustration out on. He settled for flinging himself into one of the chairs, arms slapping the sides. He'd take some time and then he was out of there. Gen. Hammond himself couldn't order him back into that thing.

AND NOW, PART SIX...

* * *

The knock caught him by surprise. He'd been ensconced in Roslov's office only for a few minutes. What the scientific crew of the Antarctic outpost laughingly called an office was merely a set of eight foot partitions separating the small space from the main area. There wasn't a door but an offset wall that gave the semblance of privacy, if one ignored the completely open space above the head until the ceiling of the cavern holding back tons of ice and snow.

"O'Neill?"

"Come on in, T." Jack stayed seated in the chair before the small travel desk. He hadn't had much time to decide how to tell Meyers he was leaving. Maybe he wouldn't. Tell him, that is. The Jaffa settled in the only other chair in the small space, both men taking up nearly all of the available room. His steady gaze burned into Jack. Yes, he was feeling guilty his weakness had caused him to turn and run. What of it? "What's up, big guy?"

"Perhaps you would tell me. I spoke with Daniel Jackson." Teal'c's eloquent face told the rest of the story. He knew somehow. Teal'c always did.

Jack wanted to deny anything was wrong, wanted to lie through his teeth, but he and Teal'c had been through too much together to allow it, damn him. And in all honesty he was probably the only one who could truly understand. "I'm scared." He felt Teal'c's heavy gaze on his face, but couldn't return the look. "More scared than I've been in a long time. Ever, really. This thing, this ability, it's not something I asked for. I didn't want it. And I feel like it's taking over my life. Thor said the information from the download was gone. Then how come I can read this stuff? How come I wake up in the middle of the night remembering things, places, conversations I've never had?" He couldn't stop the words once they'd started. They spilled from his mouth, all the fears that had been plaguing him for months. Ever since he and Ba'al had been trapped together on that damn planet. No, ever since Daniel had shoved those damn pictures with the strangely familiar symbols under his nose. "I've been having these visions. These brothers, twins, are working on a storage device, one to contain all of the knowledge of the Ancients. Their people are dying of a plague. Our Ancients died of a plague. I got my head messed with not just once but twice by an Ancient memory device. That's too much coincidence for me. Why am I suddenly having visions of the devices' inventors? Thor said he took it all away. But if he did... Teal'c, I can feel what they felt. I can feel Methral's anger and fear." He stumbled to a halt, throat tight, body shaking.

Teal'c's silence at the end of the flood was a surprisingly healing balm, not condescension. He wanted to look up, to see what was going on in his friend's mind, but he couldn't force his eyes up. The quiet creak of shifting plastic was the only indication Teal'c was still there for a long minute. "You said these men are twins?"

The unexpected question shocked him out of his paralysis. "Were, yeah. Mylar and Methral. They created the Ancient download device."

"O'Neill, when Thor revived you on his ship after your time in stasis, you spoke of twins."

"No, I didn't."

"You did indeed."

He managed to stop himself from sounding the denial again, but he couldn't stop his brain from repeating it silently. He searched his memory, hazy as it was from those months, and couldn't find anything at all like Teal'c described. Hell, he barely remembered their short time on Thor's ship and he'd had SG-1's accounts of the trip to help him with that. "None of you said anything about it in your reports."

"I did not think it a matter of consequence. You had been in stasis for some time. I thought it likely a product of your imagination." Teal'c looked as if he was regretting the decision now.

"What exactly did I say?"

"'I remember getting my head sucked. And something about twins.'"

Jack waited, but when nothing else came he leaned back in the chair. "That's it? Not very helpful is it?"

Nodding slowly, Teal'c agreed with his pithy assessment. "Which is why I saw no importance in recounting the anecdote."

"And yet here I am with visions of twins dancing in my head," Jack said, a sudden black humor filling him. Teal'c frowned, obviously trying to work that one out in his brain and just as obviously failing. Taking pity on the alien, he waved the comment away. 'Twas the Night Before Christmas' wasn't very high up on the mandatory reading list for defectors, especially ones from a different planet. Maybe he'd get Teal'c a copy for Christmas, if they ever got out of the ice and back to Colorado. "I don't remember saying anything about twins. I should remember that. All it does is reinforce the fact Thor didn't get it all out. How much is left in my head, just waiting for a chance to come forward? Teal'c, I feel like I'm losing myself bit by bit." But there was one more admission to make, the biggest one of all. "I don't know who I am anymore."

"You are the same man I chose to follow eight years ago. The one who made me believe everything I'd feared to think in a single moment." Teal'c's words were softly spoken yet all the more powerful for the lack of volume. He stared straight into Jack's eyes, the earnest expression daring to be countered. "This knowledge, this ability to manipulate the Ancient technology does nothing to change who you are inside. Are you any less Jack O'Neill because you now have visions of the past? Because I followed Apophis, does that make me a monster?"

The unexpected question shocked Jack out of his contemplation. "What? Of course not. You know I don't believe that crap."

"What is your reasoning?"

The former First Prime had a purpose for taking this side trip, but Jack had no idea where they were going to end up. As always with Teal'c, when he didn't have the slightest clue what to say, he simply let his heart lead. "Being Apophis' First Prime was what you did, not who you are."

Teal'c inclined his head slightly, his eyebrows tilting upward. "And is this not the same?"

Unable to look away from his friend's eyes, Jack let the words echo in his brain. Was it the same? Was the Ancient gene really just like any other ability he had? He'd trained long and hard to reach his position in life. Could this ability just be one more thing that needed training? And how changed was he exactly because of the dreams he'd been having? He couldn't bring himself to call them memories, although his suspicions were mounting with each repetition. He just couldn't. Not yet. But was he materially different because of them? Yes, he had to admit. He couldn't not be. And yet he wasn't. They hadn't altered his decisions, just given him an additional insight into what he was looking at, what he was trying to do with the technology. "So, what you're saying is that I'm being an idiot. That I need to take what I can from the ATA gene and the dreams and dump the rest."

"I did not say that, O'Neill," Teal'c replied straight-faced. But there was a slight crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

"Yeah, but I heard it loud and clear." Jack slumped back into the chair, forcing himself to see it from his friend's perspective. There had to be a reason the visions were showing up now, at this particular time. It could be any number of things, he just had to narrow the list down. And he had to accept the fact they may not be going away any time soon. Teal'c was right. They didn't control him and neither did the Ancient tech he could use. He used it, not the other was around. He wasn't being taken over as he'd been both times initially following the downloads. He looked up to see Teal'c waiting patiently in his chair, hands relaxed on his legs, face expectant. Teal'c had always had the ability to see straight to the heart of a matter. Jack wondered if he'd ever be as wise as the other man, even if he lived twice as long. "Thanks, T."

That one eyebrow raised in silent denial. "But I did nothing, O'Neill. I merely listened."

"Exactly, buddy. That's exactly what you did." Decision remade in the shifting of his thoughts, he stood, hands coming together before him in a washing motion. "So, I guess we're staying for a little bit longer."

* * *

The scientists were still flocked around the chair platform when Jack and Teal'c returned. Daniel was nowhere in sight. Probably discussing some weird text in a dead language with another egghead, Jack decided, torn between uneasy and glad his friend was out of the way. He really wasn't up to another round of spilling his guts just then. "We ready for round two, Meyers?"

The scientist whirled around, clearly startled as he fumbled his data pad before barely saving it from the cavern floor. "Sir! Welcome back."

"Thanks. So what's next?" Jack asked, moving toward the platform before his nerves could start up again. Like a bandage needing to come off, if he just did it quickly it wouldn't hurt as much. At least that's what he'd keep telling himself. His heart continued to thump against his ribs, even after his chat with Teal'c had settled it in his head. Apparently the two weren't on speaking terms at the moment. The platform flashed to life once again as Jack stepped up on it.

"Well, sir, we want to try something new since all of the results from earlier clearly establish that you have a thorough rapport with the device." Meyers was practically bouncing on his feet in excitement. It was geek nirvana on the seventh continent. "We're ready any time you are."

Sitting quickly, the snakes in his gut started rattling a bit louder. He shoved them back down and nodded decisively. "Let's do this."

Teal'c stood to one side, much as Daniel had earlier, only his presence was as calming as the archaeologist's had been full of excess energy. A moment's eye contact reassured Jack more than he'd ever admit that he'd made the right decision in staying.

"All right, sir. What I'd like you to do is see if there's some kind of main functions window. Kind of like what you did earlier with the galaxy listing."

Letting his eyes slip closed, Jack focused inward where the chair controls seemed to hover in his mind. A simple thought and the main switchboard, for lack of a better term, was available to him. "Got it."

A sharp gasp to his left almost pulled his focus away enough to lose the image. As it was, it wavered blurrily for a moment before returning to a steady glow in his head. Whispers teased his ears as the scientists murmured around him, obviously not aware his hearing was more acute with his eyes closed.

"Did you see that?"

"Less than a second."

"What have we been missing out on all these months?"

"How long can he stay?"

Not a minute longer than necessary, he almost answered aloud, but clenched his jaw closed even as the words were forming. He may have accepted the fact he had to explore his connection with the Ancients' technology. That didn't mean he was going to hang around forever playing lookie-lookie with the white coats. He had a Stargate to get back to and a base full of personnel who needed him.

His inner eye scanned the information as the people around him continued to marvel. One set of markings seemed to call to him. They were abstractly familiar, like a painting seen years ago at a museum. Focusing on the set he wanted, the line of script flew into focus, the other information gliding away into the background. He had seen them before, he was sure of it now. But where? The bits of Ancient he could consciously read were few and far between and even then never when they'd actually needed it. And then it hit. P8D-931. The Ancient ruins with the funky script. He and Ba'al prisoners together. Communications. That's what it read. But what were the extra symbols for? He knew if he let himself stall for too long he'd think it to death. "Teal'c, I'm going to try something. If I don't respond in five minutes... I don't know, hit me or something."

"You have my word, O'Neill." Teal'c's voice came from his left, the deep timbre welcome.

"Thanks. I think." He didn't have to see the smile to know it was there. He had asked for it after all.

Concentrate, he told himself, leveling all his attention back to the display in his mind. There were two distinct sections. One had a list in Ancient that corresponded to a symbol in the second list. He sent the list scrolling, 'eyes' scanning. They flew by, mostly meaningless to him. Wait! What was that one? He scrolled back a page and stared at the inverted 'V' of the final glyph of Earth's Stargate address. Quickly reading the Ancient symbols he recognized next to the glyph, a thought began to form in the back of his head. Earth had an Ancient outpost. Earth's name was on this list. If he could just find... And there it was: Proclarousch Taeonas. The fireball where they'd traveled to get the first zero point modulator. It had been an outpost as well. And it had had a chair before the dome collapsed. The idea coalesced as he stared at a glyph he thought he recognized. The glyph floated in his vision as he weighed the odds. If he was right, then he was about to take the coolest trip in history. If he was wrong? Well, it could be really, really bad.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he mentally pressed the glyph.

The platform flashed instantly, sending sparks shooting through his eyelids and straight into his retinas. He blinked furiously to clear them, annoyed more than pained. Gradually, the spots faded and he was still sitting in the chair. However, Teal'c, Meyers, the other scientists and all of the Antarctic equipment were gone. Jack sat up quickly, tiny spots continuing to hover at the edges of his vision. Well, he tried to sit up. Instead of his torso coming upright, his hands slipped through the arms of the chair as if they had no substance.

"Gah!"

The startled cry echoed in the chamber as he stared at the hands he'd yanked back into sight. Tentatively, he poked a finger at the jelly control circle. Once again his flesh slipped right through. Don't panic, he told himself, feeling his heart kick up its beat with an adrenaline chaser. He took the same finger and pressed it against his other arm. The arm rippled, sending a wave throughout his body. The nauseating sight was actually a welcome relief. He'd seen that effect before. He'd been that effect before.

A hologram. His body had to be a hologram projection of some sort. Letting out a short, hard puff of air, Jack shoved the thought to the back of his mind. Where he was took priority to how he was there. A memory that couldn't be one flashed through his head. He didn't question it, some buried instinct guiding him. Thinking himself though the process of standing, he was able to make it to his feet and take a look at his new surroundings.

The platform glowed softly instead of the intense brightness he'd always experienced when he approached. The cavern was similar in appearance to both Taeonas and the Antarctic. Ancient architecture surrounded him as he tried to take a tentative step forward. Nothing. Okay. How had he stood up? He thought it. There. One step forward. And another. Okay, he repeated silently. Think actions, don't perform them. Scanning the cavern quickly but intently, he found it more identical than not to the Antarctica base. Vast emptiness loomed above him as the central chamber opened into the smaller antechamber. Jack wandered the rooms, memorizing slight differences and creating a mental map.

He tried touching the walls, the panels, the controls, anything he came across, but his incorporeal hologram status remained unchanged. He wondered if he was moving in the chair back on Earth or if he was just sitting there, eyes closed. What if his hologram was a projection of his thoughts, he realized with a flash of insight. The Ancient tech worked mostly by thought recognition. Why couldn't it take his thoughts and send them somewhere else? Somewhere another chair had power and was in working condition? It would be a simple thing for a people who could build a complex system of transportation like the Stargates.

A smile stole over his lips as his hand hovered a mere inch away from the stasis machine, a duplicate to the one that had saved his life. He hadn't needed any of the eggheads to figure this one out. And wouldn't Daniel be mad as a shaved porcupine that he couldn't use the chair.

Jack shook off the moment of levity, turning to face the platform. Now it was time to figure out how to get back to his body. Thinking his way into a seated position, he closed his eyes in case he sent his hands through the controls again. It was hard to concentrate when he had parts passing through solid matter. So, he had to return home. How to do that? He'd gotten wherever he was by pulling up the communications chart and 'pressing' the corresponding glyph. Thinking carefully, he called up the same listing, scrolling to Earth's familiar inverted 'V'. I want to go back there, he sent out, pressing the glyph.

With a sharply indrawn breath he opened his eyes, as if coming up for air. Teal'c stood beside him on the platform, true to his word. Daniel had appeared at some point while he'd been gone, his expression displaying more than a little shock as his eyes roved over Jack seated in the chair again.

"Well, that was cool."

A beat of silence followed his announcement. The scientists, apparently not knowing what to make of him yet, glanced at each other, unsure whether to laugh or not. His friend, however, had no such hesitation. "Jack?" Daniel drawled, an expectant look on his face. "What was cool?"

He got up out of the chair and stepped down from the platform before answering. "It's a communications feature. Like an Asgard hologram except I could move around." He traced his arm in the path he'd walked through the other chamber. The two areas could have been stamped from the same blueprints. "I couldn't touch anything, but I could see and speak. At least I could hear myself speak. Maybe no one else could."

"I take it you were alone? Wherever you were?" Meyers interjected before Daniel could get the words out. His stylus flew over the data pad as he took note of every word said.

"I didn't see or hear anyone else. It looked abandoned. Like Taeonas," he added, a thought floating up from his subconscious. "I think it can take me anywhere there's an active chair platform." Another moment of silence fell. Jack could see the wheels turning in every head.

"You mean..."

"Yes, Daniel. I mean."

"That would be a very helpful ability."

Meyers' gaze flew between the members of SG-1, obviously following their synchronized thoughts as a broad smile spread across his face. "Do you really think it's possible, sir?"

"I really do."

Dr. Emenville and the other scientists still wore quizzical frowns. Stepping forward, Emenville raised one had as if asking permission to speak. "Sir, if you don't mind my asking, what are you talking about?"

"Atlantis," Jack said simply. Realization flooded the scientist's face, filling the tanned skin with a ruddy flush. "Yeah. We could find out if they're okay."

* * *

cont. in Part 7...


	8. Part Seven

** See Title Chapter for full story notes and disclaimers.

PART SEVEN NOTES: I'm so sorry this part is a day late! I had visitors with me this past week and then clean up and recovery from their whirlwind stay. Thank you for your patience and not beating down my virtual door with cannonballs at the delay. I hope this surprise visit makes up for it.

To Lynette, beta of awesome, I hope your return home is a grand thing. Get your rest now, because my writing time has just opened up dramatically. To Annie, beta awesome the second, thank you for the nitpicky comments. You both made this story a far better product. Any remaining mistakes are all on me.

As always, any and all feedback is appreciated.

* * *

Part Seven

* * *

PREVIOUSLY ON STARGATE: SG-1...

Meyers' gaze flew between the members of SG-1, obviously following their synchronized thoughts as a broad smile spread across his face. "Do you really think it's possible, sir?"

"I really do."

Dr. Emenville and the other scientists still wore quizzical frowns. Stepping forward, Emenville raised one had as if asking permission to speak. "Sir, if you don't mind my asking, what are you talking about?"

"Atlantis," Jack said simply. Realization flooded the scientist's face, filling the tanned skin with a ruddy flush. "Yeah. We could find out if they're okay."

AND NOW, PART SEVEN...

* * *

Double checking the readings on the control panel for the third time, Rodney McKay frowned. They hadn't risen in over a week, stubbornly refusing to change. He couldn't delude himself any longer. Even his massive intellect had run out of excuses. There simply wasn't enough power to go around. Atlantis either needed another naquadah generator or a ZPM. Or a way to recharge the one they did have. Elizabeth was going to love this news. It was yet another weight to add to the ones he'd already heaped onto her slender shoulders. He'd have to tell Zelenka to see what else could be cut that wasn't essential for operations. They were already running at a ridiculously low operating threshold as it was. There was little more they could axe and remain functioning, but if it had to be done it had to be done. They'd have to find a way. The city was dead without power. They were dead without power.

"And if people don't start paying attention to the rules and quit using unnecessary power I'm going to lock it all down under my authorization," he muttered to no one in particular as one of the sensors spiked slightly. When he found out who was in that section he'd have their rations cut for a week. The spike repeated itself and his frown deepened. If the maps were correct, and they'd never been wrong before, that was an empty area. No one had clearance to be in that section of the city. Who would have disobeyed such a necessary order? His eyes flew over the internal sensor readout, searching the results as if the computers were lying to him. That was the only explanation because there was no one in the area to trigger a power spike in the city response grid. Absolutely no one. The spike appeared for a third time and remained at a slightly higher level than before.

Without thought, Rodney slapped the com panel, opening a line. "Major Sheppard, Rodney here. We have a possible intruder in the platform room."

"Possible?" The short silence spoke volumes by itself. "That's usually a yes or no situation."

"Ha ha. I'll book a stage in Vegas for you when we get back. There's an unusual power spike down there. If Command has cleared the area for personnel I never got the memo."

"No, she hasn't, Rodney. What's this blip doing?"

Gritting his teeth, he sucked in a deep breath, reminding himself he'd actually asked for this posting. Lately he was wondering why he even bothered sometimes. Being exiled to Russia as their Stargate expert might have been more amusing. For a few minutes at least. "When you've finished cracking jokes you might want to send someone to check it out. The blip, as you so quaintly call it, is using unauthorized power. Power we can't afford to waste, if you'll recall."

That articulate pause repeated itself before Sheppard answered. "Geez, Rodney, relax a little. I'll handle it."

McKay snapped off the com with a little more force than necessary. "Air Force." He ignored the veiled smiles and looks from the assorted people in Control and went back to his sensor readings. He called up the personnel tracking system and narrowed in on Sheppard. Three small red circles joined his and they moved quickly down the corridor. Surreptitiously, he followed Sheppard's team's progress on the board. What the hell could be down there?

The four little pips gradually slowed as they drew closer to the target area. Finally, they stopped outside the chamber itself, two to each side of the entrance. Rodney killed the other windows on his screen and magnified the surveillance. One pip rushed forward into the room, followed quickly by two others. The last remained outside. The three pips stopped abruptly in front of the platform, a short distance separating each. And then nothing. No movement, no nothing.

He wanted to ask what was going on, but had been around the military side of things long enough to know he could get someone killed by getting on the com. Most of the people he knew would have sworn Rodney McKay couldn't be taught to listen to anyone's opinion about how things should be run. But he'd seen too many people die in the past few months to not acknowledge that sometimes the military did have a clue. He just had to be patient. Right.

His finger was actually hovering over the button, protocol be damned, when it came. "Rodney? You and Elizabeth need to get down here. Now."

"What's going on?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Just hurry."

Swallowing all of his other questions, Rodney turned and made his way quickly to Weir's office. She looked up expectantly, a faint frown wrinkling between her eyes. "Yes, Rodney?"

He didn't need a cue card to know she was in the middle of something. He also didn't need to hold up one to tell her he didn't care if he was interrupting her. "There's something in the chair room. Maj. Sheppard said we need to get there."

Rodney had to hand it to her, she didn't ask any stupid questions, just stood to walk with him out of her office. She waited until they were out of Control before she spoke. "What's going on?" He briefed her on the strange power spike and the security team as they hustled down the corridor toward the transport station. That was yet another thing that was about to get axed, he realized with a sigh. Rodney hated having to use the stairwells. "And there was no sign of a life form down there?"

"None," he said, activating the transport unit. A moment later they were in the corridor heading toward the platform. "Just the spikes. There wasn't anything else out of the ordinary."

"Let's hope it's good news for once," Elizabeth said.

"Because that's in high supply these days." He couldn't fault her ignoring the comment. He might have as well in her shoes. That didn't mean he liked in any more.

The rear security turned toward them as they cleared the corner, weapon ready to bear. He lowered it as they came forward. "Ma'am, Dr. McKay. Maj. Sheppard's waiting for you inside."

Exchanging glances, they stepped into the now brightly lit chamber. "John, what's going-" The words stopped in her throat when she caught sight of the figure standing on the platform in front of the chair. Rodney blinked once, then did it again when the vision didn't change. "General O'Neill."

"Greetings from Earth, Dr. Weir."

* * *

Jack managed to restrain his laugh at the multiple and almost identical expressions surrounding him. Sheppard had taken it remarkably well with no questions other than a small, "How," that he'd halted before finishing and called for Weir and McKay without another thought. Their pleasantries were short as they waited. In a surprisingly short amount of time the two doctors arrived. Jack figured he could have greeted Dr. Weir a little less impudently, but just couldn't help himself. He'd feel guilty later, but for now it just felt good to see them alive and well.

"How did you get here?" Weir asked, stepping forward as she shook off her shock.

Ignoring her outstretched hand, he shrugged. "I'm not here actually. Hologram via the chair. We're doing some testing over here in Antarctica. Little problem with the ATA gene therapy."

"Holographic communication?" McKay didn't bother masking his disbelief. "I find that hard to believe. How are you moving around here? The Asgard platform projectors I've read about in reports are nowhere near this large." He paused for a moment, head tilted to one side in a way Jack had always found more than a little annoying. "What's the problem with the therapy?"

"I don't know," Jack returned, sarcasm for sarcasm. "I'm not the scientist. Those who've gone through the gene therapy here have limited control capabilities. They're trying to find out why. Apparently you took all of the natural gene carriers with you." The except me was implied, but he knew it'd gotten through when Weir, Sheppard and McKay all traded a glance. "However, my tiny little brain will take a guess that the Ancients embedded the emitters throughout their facilities." He paused for a brief moment to enjoy the shocked look on McKay's face. "I could do the same in Andromeda as well. Although no one was there to greet me." The last was almost an afterthought.

McKay's mouth gaped like a goldfish while Weir and Sheppard hid smiles behind turned heads. "General," Weir said, breaking the silence. "It's good to see you, even if we can only see you. Although the platform room is hardly a place to hold a reunion."

Jack returned the warm smile, absurdly pleased to see them all, even the annoyingly superior Rodney McKay, alive and well. "Let's test my little theory and see if I can travel around this place with you."

"I've got another idea," McKay interrupted, one finger pointed in his direction. "Why don't you try to meet us in the conference room. If you're correct, the device will know where you want to go."

"I like that idea even better." He grinned at the other man's expression. Clearly the scientist hadn't expected him to agree so quickly. "Briefing room? Is it near the control room?" After receiving nods mixed with bemused expressions, Jack closed his eyes and thought about the control room. Then he pictured a large table where people could gather and share information. He could hear their whispered conversation buzz around him like a mosquito on a quiet night, but he didn't let it distract him.

Apparently McKay had been right. The image of a smallish chamber appeared behind his eyelids. A large U-shaped table filled the room with chairs along the outer curve. Through the open door he could see the control room with numerous people all at their duties, some chatting while they worked. He pulled his focus back to the room itself, concentrating tightly on the image. I want to go there, he directed internally, squeezing his eyes tighter together.

There was no flash of light, no change of feeling beneath his feet, nothing to tell him he'd just transported to a different location. Slitting one eye open, he peeked through, slightly concerned it hadn't worked. The others were nowhere to be found in the room he now occupied. A grin spread across his face as he took in the new room. If he didn't know any better, he would have said he was almost happy to be manipulating the Ancient tech so easily. But he did know better. It was the knowledge that Atlantis was okay. That was causing the odd sense of euphoria. Sounds from the control room filtered in through the open doorway, sounds he hadn't been able to hear in the image he'd seen moments before he'd made the transfer. Only because you didn't ask for it, a tiny part of his brain whispered. Roughly, he pushed the voice aside. He didn't need any help from the peanut gallery. He was doing fine on his own, thank you very much.

Footsteps alerted him to an approaching individual. Quickly he moved to the side of the doorway. Without someone to verify his presence, he didn't want any of the Atlantis crew to see him. The man in a dark green shirt passed by, completely unaware of the presence in the briefing room. Jack eased a sigh out and wondered how long it would take Weir and Sheppard to travel the same distance the conventional way. McKay could go hang himself. Jack remembered the obnoxious man from his visits to the SGC. Their minute spent together in the platform room below had been more than enough to remind Jack why he'd been so happy to approve the man's assignment to Atlantis. Unfortunately, they were probably going to need his technological insight, Jack admitted grudgingly. Damn.

More clattering footsteps announced the arrival of the ones he was waiting on. Crossing his arms casually, he pasted a smirk on his face. "What took you so long?"

Sheppard snorted a laugh before shooting Weir an apologetic shrug. "It was funny."

She didn't deign to reply, simply gestured to the seats surrounding the large table. "Now that we are here, let's get started. Gen. O'Neill," she continued when everyone but Jack was seated. "Can you explain exactly what's going on in Antarctica to bring you here?"

"And in holographic form," McKay tacked on, flipping open the data pad he'd laid before him on the table.

What was it with scientists and those stupid things, Jack wonder briefly. Since he couldn't sit in any of the leftover chairs, he settled for placing himself directly across from Weir and explained as briefly as possible what had occurred in Antarctica over the last two weeks. The growing problem with the gene therapy and their decision to ask for his help pulled a frown from McKay, but he kept his mouth shut on the commentary Jack could see sitting behind his eyeballs. Maybe he'd learned a little tact in his time here. As soon as the thought floated up, Jack knocked it back down. Nothing was going to change McKay for the better, at least not in Jack's lifetime. "And given this new ability, I thought it might be a good time to check up on you lot," he concluded with a small shrug.

Stunned silence filled the room for a long moment before McKay's mouth snapped shut with an audible click. The data pad was filled with notes, but he hadn't looked at them in at least three minutes. Jack wondered idly if that was a record for him. "I can't believe I was so stupid. I never even thought to have the chair tested for communications. We just assumed it was a weapons platform. Why didn't I think of it?" he repeated, looking disgusted at his perceived failure.

"No one thought of it, Rodney," Weir stated matter-of-factly. "But now that we do know we need to do some testing of our own. Especially about its power consumption. You said there was a spike?"

He nodded, one hand raised with the thumb and forefinger a scant inch apart. "A little one. But we are on the receiving end. It's probably a higher drain on the originating side."

"And it took someone born with the gene to access that part of the chair's systems," Jack added. "Like I said, we've been having problems with the therapy on Earth."

Weir's face tightened at the reminder. Tapping the earpiece in her left ear, she said, "Carson, we need you in the briefing room." Whatever his response was, she seemed pleased with it as she nodded and tapped the receiver again. "He's on his way. He'll need to know everything you do about these problems."

Jack shrugged once again. "Like I said, I'm not a scientist. I really don't know much." He pointedly did not look to McKay as he said it. There was no need to invite the external peanut gallery to comment. He had enough issues with the internal one. "And I have no idea if there's some kind of time limit to this long distance call. I may disappear at any time."

"Then we'll make this as quick as possible."

The door slid open on the tail end of her words and a man Jack recognized stepped in. A glance to Sheppard confirmed this was the man who'd accidentally fired the drone at them as they'd flown toward the Antarctic base about a year ago. Jack almost felt sorry for the guy when he caught sight of their visitor standing calmly in the room. He obviously remembered nearly killing a highly placed officer.

"Dr. Weir," Beckett greeted in his rolling brogue. "Gen. O'Neill. Sir, how are you?" The hesitant smile dropped from his face, replaced with a confusion Jack almost felt sorry to have caused. Almost. There was still that drone to think about. "How are you here?"

Jack kept the smile to a dim version of its full one. The doctor was off balance enough as it was. "Long story. Basically, the chair and a hologram. I'm not really here." He waved one hand through the heavy solidness of the table to demonstrate.

"Right," Beckett said automatically, taking a seat as his brain started working hard enough Jack was surprised he didn't see smoke leaking from his ears. "What's the problem?"

"It's the gene therapy. It's not as effective as with those born with the gene. None of the scientists could access the full functions of the platform. They couldn't even call up the main menu."

McKay's eyes closed in self-disgust for the second time in five minutes. "Main menu," he repeated quietly.

Weir stopped him before the rant could even start, a fact he was more than happy to see. "General, what made you think of coming here? How did you know the power was sufficient to get the signal across?"

"I didn't know, but we had to try," he said, his joy at seeing the SGC's far flung personnel alive and well easing into a muted sense of satisfaction spoiled only by a trepidation wanting to rear its ugly head. "If there was the smallest chance we could reach this far, we would. If I could make it as far as Andromeda, is Pegasus really that much farther?" He paused as they took in the news of another outpost with mild expressions. "You've been out here alone for a while. We've been concerned."

Weir and the others exchanged tight smiles and Jack zeroed in on the expressions like a laser sight. Something told him those looks weren't just because of his surprise visit. He had a feeling they were just happy to be alive and to have made it this far into their exile in relatively one piece. Even though each and every person on the mission had volunteered for it, had practically had to beg for one of the coveted slots, Jack knew they hadn't done so without sacrifices. Even McKay had left a sister behind on Earth. And yes, Jack had checked every file himself before allowing a single person to go through the Stargate to Atlantis. He might not have been able to go with them, but he wanted to know who he was sending in his place.

"Now," Jack stated decisively. "Tell me what I need to know."

* * *

cont. in Part 8...


	9. Part Eight

** See Title Chapter for full story notes and disclaimers.

PART EIGHT NOTES: In my happy little world, it's still Sunday. That's my story and I'm sticking to it! :) Thank you so much for all of the encouragement and comments on this story so far. You all have been amazing! I'm going to apologize in advance for the brevity of the next few parts. I separate posts by plot, not scene or word count. It's just the way these next section played out.

To Lynette, beta extraordinaire, thanks again and again for your work. You didn't let me get away with anything easy. To Annie, beta of awesomeness the second, thank you for such wonderful support. You both made this story a far better product. Any remaining mistakes are all on me.

As always, any and all feedback is appreciated.

* * *

Part Eight

* * *

PREVIOUSLY ON STARGATE: SG-1...

Weir and the others exchanged tight smiles and Jack zeroed in on the expressions like a laser sight. Something told him those looks weren't just because of his surprise visit. He had a feeling they were just happy to be alive and to have made it this far into their exile in relatively one piece. Even though each and every person on the mission had volunteered for it, had practically had to beg for one of the coveted slots, Jack knew they hadn't done so without sacrifices. Even McKay had left a sister behind on Earth. And yes, Jack had checked every file himself before allowing a single person to go through the Stargate to Atlantis. He might not have been able to go with them, but he wanted to know who he was sending in his place.

"Now," Jack stated decisively. "Tell me what I need to know."

AND NOW, PART EIGHT...

* * *

Teal'c watched O'Neill's face closely, looking for any sign of discomfort or confusion. At the slightest hint of either he planned to remove his friend from the device in the most expedient manner possible. O'Neill would thank him even before the bruises started to fade. But the general had shown no expression to cause him worry. O'Neill had shown surprisingly little emotion at all since he had shut his eyes for his attempt to reach Atlantis. Daniel Jackson once again paced behind him, heading for the far end of the platform. It was becoming tiresome. "O'Neill will be fine. Your pacing will have no effect on the length of time this will take."

The other man halted instantly. "Sorry, Teal'c. I just can't sit here doing nothing waiting for him to come back. I mean, what if he's in Atlantis? What if he's talking to them right now?"

"Is that not what we hope is occurring? What O'Neill is forcing himself to do?" When Daniel merely nodded he shifted his stance, clasping his hands more comfortably behind his back. "Then we will learn of it upon his return," he stated calmly. The younger man turned back to the platform, expression not clearing from its concerned mien. "There is nothing we can do."

"I know. In my head I know. But my gut..."

"Mine is the same," Teal'c finished when his team mate trailed off, words uncharacteristically failing him. "Until O'Neill returns we will have to wait." He returned his attention to their friend's still form, Daniel Jackson's presence finally motionless beside him.

The companionable silence was broken only by the sparse chatter of the surrounding scientists as they measured energy readings and other signals Teal'c could only guess at. His mind flew from thought to thought while O'Neill breathed gently on. They had been together for a long time. Aside from Bra'tac there was no one he trusted more. From that very first day he'd seen the strangely clothed man bearing a 'watch' he'd known there was something different, something special about him. O'Neill insisted, with a complete lack of false modesty, that he was a simple man, one who was repeatedly in the wrong places at the right times. He saw nothing special within his makeup, did not, even could not, understand how he was still alive.

But Teal'c knew differently. O'Neill was intelligent. He had an innate understanding of how a person thought after mere minutes of exposure. He was loyal to a fault, never gave up, never compromised his morals and had the self-respect to admit when he had made a mistake. Teal'c had seen him reconsider a decision when facts and situations had changed. He had seen the man sacrifice himself over and over so others would not have to suffer. He had seen his friend cold-bloodedly take out an enemy and never look back. And yet he had seen that same man, one who had dispassionately ended lives, turn around and comfort a child who needed it for no other reason than it needed to be done. A more genuine love for younglings he had never witnessed. Teal'c had learned of O'Neill's son's death with a sadness that had bordered on an inexplicable personal grief. Unable to imagine losing Rya'c, Teal'c could not even begin to understand how O'Neill had continued his life. But the fact he had proved his character and fortitude beyond any words or recommendation.

It came down to one basic concept: Teal'c would do anything in his power to ensure his friend lived a long and uneventful life. Regretfully, O'Neill had a penchant for finding trouble wherever he went. Or more accurately, trouble found him.

The events just two months ago with Ba'al had proven that fact beyond any doubt. Who could ever have imagined O'Neill and Ba'al trapped together for hours? And both leaving the place alive? Teal'c would admit to anyone who enquired he never would have believed it could happen. Yet it had. And O'Neill had been subtly altered ever since. He would become lost in thought in the middle of a meal or not realize someone was speaking to him as they maneuvered through the corridors of the SGC. Their conversation in Dr. Roslov's office had finally given Teal'c one of the missing pieces. He knew his friend had not spoken of every care weighing him down. The visions had been more than enough to cause his recent behavior, Teal'c decided, staring intently at O'Neill's unmoving form. His friend had been locked away by himself with his troubles for too long as it was. That time was over, if Teal'c had any say in the matter. He knew more than one way to gather information from his friend.

After the long, painfully tense vigil, the sudden movement as O'Neill's eyes twitched under closed lids was a shock. His eyelids fluttered twice then opened fully only to squint away from the harsh light of the platform. One hand flew up in probable response to Daniel Jackson's indrawn breath as he slowly shifted limbs and leaned forward. The chair moved with him, its back straightening to sit upright. The lights embedded within the base of the platform dimmed, as if knowing O'Neill's eyes were sensitive to their glare. Or perhaps O'Neill himself dimmed their illumination. Teal'c pondered it for less than a second before shunting the question to the side. They had much more important things to concern themselves with just then.

Moving up onto the platform near his friend ready to offer any needed assistance, Teal'c knew O'Neill had been successful by the gleam in his half-squinted eyes. The words only confirmed it.

"I made it," Jack said, shaking out his hands and feet. Teal'c could only assume they were tingling with the effects of prolonged immobility. It was not a sensation he was fond of himself. "They've had some trouble, but basically they're okay." Faces all around them relaxed, bodies sagged, and fingers gave up death grips on data pads at the news. Each person in the cavern had someone he or she knew on the expedition. The lack of news had been nerve-racking, even though it had been expected.

Daniel Jackson took the opportunity the stunned silence gave him to ask his questions before Meyers or any of the other scientists could recover. "So I was right? It is Atlantis? They made it?"

O'Neill's face brightened with a broad grin Teal'c had seen only a few times in their years together. Happiness and relief, pure and unabashed. It transformed the man's face, took years from his visage, and allowed Teal'c to see what might have been if his friend had not been subjected to so many heartbreaking sorrows in his life. Their team mate was leaning forward expectantly, awaiting O'Neill's answer. Daniel Jackson had worked, had searched long and hard to find the mythical city and the hope it represented to the people of Earth and their battle with the Goa'uld. "You were right. It is Atlantis. And I've got as much information as my tiny brain can remember stuffed up here. I need to get it all written down before I forget something." Without waiting for acknowledgment, he stood, wavered for a brief second on unsteady limbs then took off toward the area sectioned off as offices.

Exchanging a surprised look with Teal'c, Daniel Jackson hurried after their friend. Teal'c allowed himself a smile as he swept his gaze over the platform. Finally some good news to come from an Ancient device. He never thought he would live to see the day.

* * *

Almost an hour later, Jack leaned back into the questionable comfort of Roslov's office chair, exhaustion pulling at each cell of his body. Every last bit of information he'd so hastily struggled to memorize had poured forth in a disorganized spiel. Meyers and Daniel had scribbled furiously as he spoke, trying to get it all onto notepad and computer. Questions had flown between breaths and gulps of water. And there had been plenty of both.

"Jack, this is incredible," Daniel said, eyes scanning the pages scattered in front of him. His freakishly neat handwriting had disappeared not long after Jack's first few sentences, apparently figuring out he wasn't going to wait for the other man to take a complete transcription. "Just the information on the city itself is enough to keep us going here for years."

Teal'c leaned forward almost imperceptibly, his hands gripped tightly together. If Jack hadn't known the other man for so long he'd never have been able to see the subtle tension filling his shoulders and arms. "I am more interested in these Wraith. They seem a formidable foe."

"I'm with T. We need more on the Wraith," Jack stated unequivocally. Science was all well and good when the bullets weren't flying. Knowing who and what they were up against always had to be a top priority. If they didn't know who they were fighting how could they possibly figure out how to stop them? The thought lingered in his brain for a long moment, an echo of Methral's insistent voice filling him. He shook off the feeling and went on. "From what Weir said, the Wraith's primary goal is to find a way here to the Milky Way-to a new feeding ground. That would be bad."

"It's unfortunate they discovered our presence here in this galaxy from our people, but at least we have a way to combat that, to get more information ourselves," Meyers interjected. "We can use the chair."

Jack's head was shaking before the scientist had even finished the thought. "No, we can't. Holding the communication line open put a power drain on Atlantis' systems. A very small one, true, but even that's one they can't afford. They're running on fumes as it is. Their shield draws an asinine amount of power and they can't afford to shut it down for even a couple of minutes. The Wraith aren't the only bad guys out there in Pegasus. Until another ZPM, or an equivalent better than a naquadah generator, can be found, we're basically back to square one with comms."

"We can't use the chair at all?" Daniel asked, dismay clear in his expression and voice. Jack empathized with his friend. He'd felt the exact same when he'd discussed it with Weir and her crew.

"McKay thinks once a month might be safe and even then for no more than five minutes." He accepted the disappointed looks from the scientists, but didn't let it faze him. He'd thought it was a perfect solution as well. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I'm not the genius. I just pass on the bad news. We can't take the chance." After pausing a moment to let that sink in, he continued. "But Sheppard and I think there's a way to send data packages in much the same way." A long silence fell between them and Jack let the idea percolate. He knew they'd get it eventually.

"We send them a text message."

The analogy twitched a smile onto Jack's face. "Exactly, Daniel. That way nothing's lost between the messenger."

"You and Maj. Sheppard came up with that," Meyers repeated, sounding dazed. Jack wasn't sure if he should be offended or not that the scientist had so little faith in the Air Force's education system. Both he and the major had graduated flight school after all. "It's so simple. So utterly simple."

Daniel laid a friendly hand on the young man's shoulder. "It's okay. I understand. I really do."

Mouth opened to ask what Daniel meant by the crack, Jack was interrupted by another of the white-coated scientists sticking his head around the partition entrance. "Excuse me, Dr. Meyers. General," he greeted hurriedly. "You're needed in the command center. There seems to be some kind of problem at the SGC."

Torn between thoughts of 'when isn't there' and 'saved by the bell,' Jack came to his feet. "Get packed up, Teal'c, Daniel. We may have to leave in a hurry." He caught their answering nods on his way out the door. The scientist led him quickly to the small command area which was really just a large table surrounded by white boards and chairs. Accepting the waiting phone from the communications technician on duty, he leaned against the table. "O'Neill."

"Sir." Carter's voice came through slightly muffled, but the anxiety came through clearly never the less. "SG-7 returned three hours ago. They had a run in with a people calling themselves Kraea. Maj. Long called it nothing more than a spat and tried to diffuse the situation. Apparently the Kraea have heard of us and don't really approve of what we do. SG-7 heard them out and then left, figuring it was better to avoid a serious incident than to stay on in the village. Nothing showed up on their post-mission exam, but they collapsed in the commissary almost an hour ago. Other than a slight fever, Dr. Brightman can't find anything wrong with them. I've issued a lockdown until we know more."

"We're on our way back," he said, not needing to hear anything more. The scientists here in Antarctica had enough to get started. They'd figure the rest out on their own. Even if they didn't, a team down at the SGC was far more important than mere scientific study. Always had been, always would. "Monitor SG-7 at all times and keep me updated. Contact Gen. Hammond in D.C. and let him know we have a situation."

"Yes, sir. He's my next call. Fly safe."

Handing the receiver back with a quiet thank you, Jack looked over to find Daniel standing silently nearby. "You didn't think we'd actually get to finish everything down here, did you?"

"No, but I live in a world of optimism, Jack." If the other man's voice was just the slightest bit bitter, Jack wasn't about to call him on it. He was feeling a little of the same himself.

They brushed past Meyers who seemed more than a little bemused at their quick turnaround. It didn't stop him from following their ground-eating strides through the small complex to the area where they'd stored their travel bags. "General, I take it you don't have time to complete the tests?"

"Not anymore, Meyers. I have to get back to the SGC. I'm sure you'll have a whole slew of new tests for me next trip." Surprisingly, the thought didn't give him the shakes it had on the flight south. He grabbed the duffel Teal'c had just finished zipping and flung it over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dr. Meyers. Good luck. I hope you're able to fix the gene therapy. It'll be a big help with this new information from Atlantis." He managed to say the words and mean them. George, you'd never believe it, he thought, a tiny smile curling up the corners of his lips.

"Thank you for the time you did give us, sir. Have a safe flight and I hope everything turns out well up there." Meyers escorted them to the lift, but didn't follow them inside as the latticed gate slid open. "We'll be praying for you down here."

Jack had long ago stopped believing in the power of prayers, but that didn't stop him from accepting the scientist's offer. Nothing could hurt at the moment. He sent a small nod instead and kept watch until the other man was lost to his sight as the lift rose back up into the above ground base station. None of the three spoke and Jack was loath to break the silence. Trouble had come knocking once again. He could only wonder what was on the other side of the door this time.

* * *

cont. in Part 9...


	10. Part Nine

** See Title Chapter for full story notes and disclaimers.

PART NINE NOTES: And apparently, Monday is the new Sunday. Vacation is playing havoc with my ability to keep the days straight. But at least I'm still posting! Thank you to my anonymous reviewers this week, of which there were many. Your kind words on both this story and Hollow Hostilities were gratefully received.

To Lynette, most awesome beta, thanks again and again for your encouragement and friendship. You keep me growing as a writer. To Annie, pinch hitter of beta, thank you for assisting on short notice. You both made this story a far better product. Any remaining mistakes are all on me.

As always, any and all feedback is appreciated.

* * *

Part Nine

* * *

PREVIOUSLY ON STARGATE: SG-1...

Jack had long ago stopped believing in the power of prayers, but that didn't stop him from accepting the scientist's offer. Nothing could hurt at the moment. He sent a small nod instead and kept watch until the other man was lost to his sight as the lift rose back up into the above ground base station. None of the three spoke and Jack was loath to break the silence. Trouble had come knocking once again. He could only wonder what was on the other side of the door this time.

AND NOW, PART NINE...

* * *

Three days of almost constant travel had Jack in a mood ready to knock heads into the nearest wall with little thought to whose head he was abusing. He'd gotten as little rest on the return flight as he had on the initial trip. The brothers Mylar and Methral had plagued him every time he'd closed his eyes, the same dreams repeating over and over as he'd drift into sleep. As much as he hated the idea of dreams he knew couldn't be his, he almost wished they'd move onto something new. He'd already memorized the ones he'd seen. The ground crew had provided hot coffee upon their arrival at Peterson Air Base, but the caffeine had done little except make him even more short-tempered. The scene as he entered his briefing room did little to alleviate the urge for physical violence.

Carter stood at the head of the long conference table, one hand firmly planted on the wood, the other pointed straight at Dr. Brightman. Both women were focused on each other, to the exclusion of any other being in the area. The sight actually halted his forward momentum for a split second causing Teal'c and Daniel who were right behind him to stumble to a halt or run into his back. He would have laughed if the scene in front of him wasn't quite so serious. He'd never seen the two women at odds before and if the current situation was any indication he never wanted to see it again.

"The general will be back within the day and he can assess the danger at that time. Until then we will remain in a lockdown status. The only ones in or out will be Gen. O'Neill, Teal'c and Daniel."

"I need access to the samples held at the Academy Hospital to compare them to the ones from SG-7. The image files I have here are all well and good, but I can't run them through physical tests. I can't be sure of anything until I can get my hands on those samples. We can have them sent over."

"And I won't lift the lockdown until the general has all of the available information."

"Which he won't get if I can't run the tests I need."

Unwilling to let them continue in the same manner, Jack stepped forward. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Sir." Carter came to attention instinctively, relaxing at his glare. "Dr. Brightman is insisting she needs the samples from the Academy while the lockdown is still in effect."

"General," the doctor's normally soothing voice was strained, "I think SG-7 has contracted the same sickness SG-1 and Dr. Fraiser fell ill with three years ago after contact with the Ancient, Ayiana."

Jack froze for a split second, a shudder hovering at the base of his spine. Yet another time he'd almost died because of the Ancients. And Daniel wondered why he didn't like to talk about them, the gene they'd passed onto him, or his ability to use it. He waved a hand at them both and led the way into his office, knowing they'd follow. "Dr. Brightman, your last update told me you didn't know what was wrong with them. Why are you so sure now?"

"I'm still not one hundred percent convinced, sir, but all the symptoms match Dr. Fraiser's accounts of the Ancient illness," Brightman said, placing herself at one corner of his desk. He couldn't help but notice Carter's mirrored stance at the opposite corner, hands held stiffly at her side. "The only difference is the fact they collapsed prior to showing any outward signs. With the samples from the Academy Hospital I can confirm it."

"I thought this Ayiana cured everyone," Daniel said, the words striking into Jack like a blow. There was little about that time Jack didn't keep locked up tight in a very special box of its own. The other man's fuzzy memory must have connected the dots quickly as he shot Jack a silent apology. "Well, almost everyone."

"She did," Brightman said quickly, her eyes meeting Jack's briefly before turning away to encompass everyone in the room. "But if that disease has somehow been reintroduced through SG-7 then the only people with a possible immunity are Gen. O'Neill, Lt. Col. Carter and Teal'c. Even Daniel's at risk."

Jack stifled the oath that leaped immediately to mind. They'd walked right into this one without thinking it through. George would have his ass on a platter. As soon as the thought was out he pushed it aside. He didn't have time to curse fate, he needed solutions. Fast. "What about a vaccine?"

"I took a sample of Col. Carter's blood. Now that you've returned, I need one from you and Teal'c. But even if you three display antibodies, I'm not sure it will do any good. Creating a vaccine out of nothing takes a tremendous amount of time."

Time SG-7 apparently didn't have, Jack thought, knowing what the doctor was really saying. "What about other means of a cure?"

Brightman shrugged, face doubtful. "Unless you have an Ancient tucked away somewhere or a few Tok'ra symbiotes in your office, I don't see any other options."

He felt Carter's gaze heavy on his face even before she spoke. "Sir?"

That was all he needed to know what she was really asking. He didn't want to know that clearly, didn't even want to recall what he'd read about his own actions, but there was little he could do about it at the moment. "Sorry, Carter. No dice there." He ignored the glances the others exchanged around them and focused back on the doctor. Brightman's words had been flippant, but he knew she hadn't meant them that way. "Anyone else exhibiting any symptoms?"

"Thankfully none yet, sir. I've kept SG-7 in isolation since their collapse. But if I'm right, this disease is already in the air circulation system. We could have very large problem. Which is why I need those samples from the Academy."

"I'll see what can be done about a quarantine swap area. Until then, you'll have to do what you can through VTC and email. Carter's right, we can't lift the lockdown until we know more." Even though his, Teal'c's and Daniel's arrival had broken it once. They couldn't chance another. "Carter, I need everything about SG-7's mission and everything they said on their return." As she nodded and turned on her heel to get the requested information, Jack turned back to Brightman. "How much time do we have?"

"I'm not sure. They've held steady for over twenty-four hours in the same status already, but it could change at any time. The sooner we figure something out, the better their chances are."

"Then I won't hold you up here any longer, Doctor. Keep me updated," he said, knowing it was unnecessary but needing to do it all the same. Tilting his head back, he squinted at the ceiling. Yet another Ancient problem rearing its ugly head. When would the members of the SGC finally get to stop cleaning up messes left long before their births? With a sigh he focused back on Teal'c and Daniel who were waiting patiently, faces mirroring grim masks. "Daniel, could you get me Jonas's notes on Ayiana? Teal'c, the threat assessment SG-7 gave you before they left?" Watching them leave silently, his mind whirled, thoughts struggling to organize themselves. One thing kept rising to the surface, unwelcome and unasked for. If it wasn't the rock, it was the hard place.

He swiveled in his chair absently, the familiar motion clearing his head as he stared blindly across his office. What was it Carter had said? SG-7 had run into the who? Krites? Kracks? No, Kraea. That was it. Now if only he could remember where he had heard that name before.

* * *

The coffee was ice cold and bitter as it hit Jack's tongue. Suppressing the urge to spit it back into the ceramic cup, he swallowed quickly, hoping the taste would evaporate with the liquid. No such luck. With a grimace, he set the cup aside and pushed to his feet. He'd actually taken one step toward the industrial coffee pot on the far side of the commissary when a cup emitting a gently curling slip of steam materialized in front of his face. Grasping the cup in self-preservation, he looked over to find a pair of piercing blue eyes examining his face. "What are you doing here, Martin?"

"You look like you needed a refill, sir." The familiar voice was deep, a gravely rumble that put even Teal'c's to shame. At the moment it was also a very welcome one. "This one's free."

"Thanks," Jack said, waving the other man into the seat opposite him. He sank back down into his chair gratefully. "What are you doing in here?" he repeated, taking a sip of the fresh coffee.

"Ah, you know, late night paperwork. Needed a break." His lips didn't so much as twitch toward a smile as he met Jack's eyes.

Taking another sip, Jack recognized the flavor of Martin's personal stash. Late night paperwork, his behind. He must look worse than he felt if the supply sergeant was hauling out the good stuff. "I call bull, Martin."

The humor hidden under the blank mask dimmed slowly, leaving the man's face composed, lined and utterly serious. "Figured you'd be in here. SG-7 and all."

"Yeah." Their normal comfortable silence fell like a security blanket and Jack was reluctant to break it. Yet this time he had questions that needed answers. "How'd they look when they came in?" He didn't need to elaborate. Martin would know who he was talking about.

"Normal. A little irritated their mission got cut short. Just the usual." Martin paused, coffee coming up for a long swallow. "My guys separated their gear, had medical sweep it, but they didn't find anything. It's all stored away from the main inventory just in case."

Jack nodded his agreement at the precaution, the clipped, succinct sentences familiar in their rhythm. "Good decision. I'll have Dr. Brightman send someone down for them." He met the laser blue eyes solidly. "Just in case. How are your people taking the news?"

"In stride just like always. They knew the risks before they signed on with me full time. You don't need to worry about us, sir. You have more important things to keep your head filled."

He wanted to deny it, to assure Martin-and himself-that every individual, even down to the lowest supply specialist, was of the utmost importance to him. And while the sentiment would have been true, during times of crisis involving the SGC and the Stargate, the individual would always have to forfeit in favor of the mission as a whole. Earth, and its ignorant people, had stood on the brink of utter destruction too many times to believe otherwise. As much as it hurt Jack to acknowledge it, he couldn't afford to think of the individual first, as he always had the luxury of during his tenure as SG-1's commander.

Comfortable quiet fell around their table as Jack struggled to force his priorities back into order. He might not like it, might even violently disagree with it personally, but his hard-won feelings had to take a second seat to keeping the people of Earth in their blissfully ignorant state. The soft sound of air pushing through vents above their heads seemed overly loud in his ears. Slowly sipping his coffee, Jack's fingers drummed lightly on the table's surface. He wished he could deny Brightman's certainty that SG-7 had been struck down by the same sickness SG-1 had two years ago. Yet after her hours of research and consultation with the docs at the Academy the evidence was simply stacked too high. The final confirmation from blood analysis records were just going to be the red stamp. Like the doctor, Jack knew what the comparison testing was going to show. He never had been a believer in coincidence.

SG-1 and Carter's scientist friends had survived only because of Ayiana. She had healed them all, with the exception of Jack, only to succumb to the virus she'd saved them from herself. But this time they didn't have an Ayiana or a Tok'ra symbiote just waiting for a host to cure the sick. As much the idea petrified him, Jack would try to do a little healing of his own if he had even the slightest clue how to do it. Saving his people outweighed his puny fears by a long shot. But he wasn't an Ancient and those little bits of knowledge that continued to sneak up on him were nowhere close to the level he'd need for their current situation. Of course, that was discounting the effect the healing process had on the Ancient woman herself. Even worse was the knowledge that it was probably already too late. SG-7 had had plenty of contact with SGC personnel before their collapse. Jack had no way to know who could even now be infected until they started showing symptoms.

It was a waiting game of the worst kind. Glancing up once again, Jack met Martin's gaze. Something told him his late night coffee partner could read the worry hidden beneath the calm mask Jack had adopted somewhere around the time the second member of his Special Forces team had to be listed as KIA so many years ago. Martin nodded once then drained the remains of his coffee in one long pull but made no move to stand. The quiet continued unabated, a shiver running down Jack's spine. He'd always hated waiting.

* * *

cont. in Part 10...


End file.
